


Painted Heart

by JeSuisLisette



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/F, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSuisLisette/pseuds/JeSuisLisette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan enjoys the day-to-day routine of working at a children's arts and crafts shop in Manhattan's Upper West Side. That is, until some wealthy new neighbors shake everything up... Drawing inspiration from You've Got Mail and Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, this Swan Queen fan fiction will go its own way!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Painted Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story.
> 
> Primarily Swan Queen, a dash of Snowing, and a pinch of Rumbelle
> 
> This story can also be found on Fanfiction.net

Some people say there is nothing quite like New York City in the fall. Leaves richly tinted with shades of yellow, orange, and red clinging stubbornly to the trees, frantic people in business suits clinging stubbornly to their cell phones, and the eager voices of children getting on the school bus dancing happily on the cooling breeze. This is what Emma Swan thought as she made her way to work one autumn morning. Not to mention, it was the perfect weather for her signature red leather jacket, which Emma rarely left her apartment without.

It was just like any other morning, as Emma turned left to find herself on the familiar street where she had been working for the past 5 years. She smiled to herself when she saw a white sign hanging off the building ahead that read "Painted Heart" in purple calligraphy. Emma worked as a shop assistant in a children's arts and craft store where parents could purchase age-appropriate craft kits and arts supplies as well as art lessons for their kids. Despite their business in retail and education, the shop was primarily known for the pre-made ceramic animals and figurines, which children could paint in the shop. The most popular figurine was a tiny ceramic heart, which held a space in the middle for each child to write his or her name. The store was homely and small, but it had a loyal following within the microcosm that was the Upper West Side.

"Good morning!" greeted Emma as she walked in the door.

"Good morning, Emma," returned Mary Margaret, a pretty older woman with a dark pixie haircut. Mary Margaret Blanchard owned Painted Heart and took Emma in off the streets when she was just a teenager. The woman had become the closest thing to a mother Emma had ever known and sometimes she really didn't know what she would do without her.

"No coffee?" asked a muffled voice with an Australian accent. Behind the counter, Emma found her coworker Belle French with her nose in a book—as usual.

"It's Ruby's turn to get coffee," replied Emma, swinging a purple apron over her neck and tying it around her waist.

"Oh yeah," said Belle just before her attention turned back to her book.

Exchanging a smirk and an eye roll with Mary Margaret, Emma headed off to the supply closet to get a fresh batch of ceramic hearts. She also grabbed an assortment of ceramic kittens, puppies, rabbits, spaceships, and cars, which she set carefully along their designated shelves. Yes, everything was business as usual.

Suddenly, the bell attached to the front door rang, and Emma could hear the familiar click of 3-inch stilettos on the hardwood floor.

"You will not believe what I just found out!" cooed Ruby as she sauntered in with a carrier full of coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. The tall brunette was always eager to share a fresh bit of gossip.

"What?" asked Belle, without looking up from her book.

"You know the empty building across the street?" continued Ruby, unnecessarily. It was common knowledge that the large brick building across from the Painted Heart had been void of any occupant for several years now.

"Yeah?" chipped in Mary Margaret, as she organized the cash register.

"Someone has bought it!" announced Ruby, with a satisfied smile. She laid the coffee on a brightly colored child-sized table and started taking an assortment of donuts and muffins out of the bag. When no one said anything, she looked up expectantly. "Well?" She urged. "Don't you want to know who has taken it?"

"I'm sure you'll tell us." Said Belle to her book.

Ruby huffed sending the red streak in her hair flying skywards. Still, she couldn't pass up the chance to share her news. "The Storybrooke Art Gallery!" she puffed, clenching her fists to her mouth with an excited shriek.

"Who?" asked Emma, peering around the figurine shelves.

"The Storybrooke Art Gallery," repeated Ruby clearly annoyed. "It's owned by David and Kathryn Nolan! They're only two of the most famous art collectors in the New York City area."

Belle looked up from her book with a confused expression on her face. It was not like Ruby to know about such things as art.

"Not to mention, they have some of the most exclusive parties! Only A-listers are invited," continued Ruby.

Belle returned to her book.

"Well that's nice for them" answered Emma, as she continued to stack ceramic figurines. She had finished the kittens and had now moved on to the puppies.

"Don't you see?" pressed Ruby. "There's going to be a ton of artsy people coming to the neighborhood! Just think what it will do for business!"

"I don't see why a bunch of snooty upper class art connoisseurs would be good for our business," replied Emma.

"Duh," said Ruby, skipping her muffin and taking a sip of coffee. "They like art and they have money. I'm sure they have kids they'd love to spoil with art supplies."

"Maybe" chirped Mary Margaret from behind the counter. "But let's not get our hopes up just yet."

"But that's just it!" said Ruby, tying her apron so it only went around her bottom half. "You could go and talk to them! See if you can work out some kind of partnership."

"Partnership?" repeated Mary Margaret. "Why would the Nolans want a partnership with us?"

"Please," scoffed Ruby. "Rich people love their causes. Just tell them that it would look good to show the community that they care about kids and art education blah blah blah…"

Mary Margaret laughed, but it was clear she was considering Ruby's suggestion. The business had been suffering in recent years, and they could certainly use the help. "I don't know," she said.

"Just think about it, okay?" replied Ruby, giving Mary Margaret a coffee and a smile.

"Okay." Replied Mary Margaret. And just like that, Emma's beloved "business as usual" came to an end.

* * *

 

The Storybrooke Art Gallery wasted no time in taking its place along the Upper West Side. The ratty old brick building that had been across the street since the 1950's promptly became little more than a pile of rubble, as construction on a new structure commenced.

"It's awful," said Emma, scrunching up her nose.

"Nah, I kind of like it," replied Mary Margaret, tilting her head to the side. She and Emma had stopped by the construction site on their way back from lunch to check out the design for the new building. On the giant poster announcing the upcoming art gallery was a detailed sketch of a very modern looking piece of architecture, which was full of sharp angles and glass windows.

"It doesn't fit in with the neighborhood at all," countered Emma, as she motioned across the street to the row of homely brick buildings sporting multicolored awnings. "It's an eye-sore."

"Emma," pleaded Mary Margaret. "Give it a chance, I'm sure it will come out to be a very nice building."

"Why can't you ever say a bad thing about anyone?" remarked Emma in mocked annoyance.

"I just think people deserve to be given the benefit of the doubt," said Mary Margaret as the pair crossed the street back to their shop.

Emma rolled her eyes while Mary Margaret was distracted by the mailbox bolted to the wall. "And I just think most people wouldn't know real art if it slapped them in the face."

"Oh Emma," said Mary Margaret, sifting through the mail. "What am I going to do with-"

"What?" asked Emma, seeing her friend squint at an envelope in her hands. "What is it?"

"It's…an invitation," answered Mary Margaret with knitted eyebrows.

"To what?" pressed Emma, curiosity getting the better of her, as she waited for Mary Margaret to open the envelope.

"The Nolans are hosting a party to meet the local businesses."

"What?" replied Emma, incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Let's not tell Ruby."

"Emma!"


	2. Frenemies

News of the Nolan's party spread like a plague. Ruby's grandmother, who owned Granny's diner down the block, had likewise received an invitation, as did the Sisters of Saint Meissa from the convent around the corner (they of course, respectfully declined). It seemed no one in the neighborhood had been overlooked much to Emma's chagrin, because that meant Mr. Gold had also been invited.

Mr. Gold was a shriveling wart of a man who ran the local pawnshop with the utmost care. He walked with a cane that was always set to match his expensive Italian business suits. Worst of all, he was always stopping by the shop to check in on his "interests"—as he called them. Mary Margaret, in a moment of desperation, had borrowed money from the sleaze and now he thought he owned her and her business.

One morning, when Emma was helping Belle take inventory in the back, Mr. Gold came swaggering into the shop with cane in ring-covered hand.

"Dearies?" he called in a eerily high-pitched voice. "I've come to see how my girls are doing this fine day!"

"Ugh!" whined Emma, sending Belle a meaningful look. "What does that awful man want now?"

"I can deal with him," replied Belle. "He isn't so terrible." Emma would never understand Belle's remarkable tolerance for Mr. Gold. It was as if all his awfulness bounced right off of her without her even noticing.

Ignoring Emma's scoff, Belle slipped out the door that lead into the shop. Meanwhile, Emma tiptoed in her wake to listen at the door.

"Yes, Mr. Gold?" came Belle's voice. "How might I be of assistance?"

"Oh, Miss French. It's you," replied Gold, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "I wonder if I might have a word with Miss Swan?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gold," replied Belle. "Emma is unavailable at the moment. Can I take a message?"

After a moment's hesitation, Gold responded, "Yes, thank you. Will you kindly inform Miss Swan that I look forward to seeing her at the festivities next Friday evening, and I hope to secure her hand in the first dance?"

Emma covered her mouth to conceal the sounds of her disgust.

"Of course, Mr. Gold," said Belle. "I will pass your message on to Emma as soon as I can."

"Why thank you, Miss French," sang Gold with a shrill laugh. "Might I also inquire how the store has been doing?"

It was clear that Belle would not be free for some time.

"It has been fine," responded Belle, politely. "Nothing to be worried about."

"Ah, Deary," continued Gold. "But I do worry! How can you say such a thing to me after I have proven how much I care about you girls?"

Emma could practically see the loathsome man with his long knobby hand on his chest and a malicious grin on his face, as he pretended to be a friend to them.

"We appreciate your concern," said Belle, coolly. "But I do assure you, our business is in no danger."

"Oh, I am sure you will do fine," cooed Gold, the increase in the volume of his voice telling Emma he had taken a massive step closer. "You know how I know that?"

"How?" asked Belle in a reluctant tone. It was clear that this conversation was about to take a turn for the worst.

"Because I have made a deal on your behalf!" chanted Gold, clapping his hands. "You see, I have friends in high places. Oh yes! I am sure you have heard of the great Cora Mills?"

"No, I'm sorry," Emma struggled to hear Belle say. Her voice had grown much quieter.

"Well," scoffed Gold. "It just so happens that she is the matriarch of one of the greatest families in New York City! The Mills own the luxurious Enchanted Forest Hotel on Park Avenue along with its counterparts in London and Paris."

"And?" prompted Belle, ignoring Mr. Gold's pause where he clearly expected her to marvel at the grandness of his connection.

"And," continued Gold, finding himself disappointed. "Mrs. Cora Mills has agreed to purchase your little establishment for a large sum of money. Large enough to settle any outstanding debts you may have."

Emma's mouth dropped open, as she glared through the door.

"Oh." Said Belle, awkwardly, "I don't think Mary Margaret is interested in selling, but tell Mrs. Mills that we do appreciate the offer."

"Miss French, I must inform you that Mrs. Cora Mills does not take rejection very well," warned Gold. "You will tell Miss Blanchard this when you pass on the offer to her? I take it you are not the one who decides on these matters?"

"Of course," said Belle, surprising Emma with the lack of offense in her tone.

"Good day to you then, Deary," sang Gold.

A few seconds later, Emma heard the bell on the front door signal their visitor's departure and not long after that Belle slipped back into the stock room.

"Can you believe the nerve of that man?" Said Emma.

* * *

Of course Mary Margaret was not even remotely interested in Mr. Gold's deal. The Painted Heart had been in her family for three generations, and she couldn't imagine parting with it for any price.

When Mr. Gold returned the next day only to have Belle's refusal confirmed by Mary Margaret, the muscle in his jaw became very tight, and he started tapping the floor with his cane. Much to everyone's relief, he did not unleash one of his infamous angry rants, but instead chose to leave the store without another word. Emma feared they hadn't seen the last of him.

With Mr. Gold's recent interference, and the fact that business really wasn't what it should be, Mary Margaret had decided to take Ruby's advice and try to work out some kind of business partnership with the Storybrooke Art Gallery. It turned out to be impossible to get in touch with the Nolans themselves, but she was able to contact their lawyer Archie Hopper. Much to Mary Margaret's surprise, the Nolans were interested in the deal and agreed to meet with Mary Margaret about it the morning after their upcoming party.

"What do you think they're like?" asked Ruby after Mary Margaret shared her good news.

"Rich," said Emma, feeling bored.

"I bet Kathryn is glamorous," continued Ruby, unperturbed. She absentmindedly began placing kitten figurines on the spaceships shelf. "Like Audrey Hepburn or Jackie O."

"I wonder if they have a good library," added Belle, turning a page in the third book she had read that week.

"I wonder if we'll ever be able to talk about another subject ever again," said Emma, following behind Ruby to correct her shoddy shelving. Ever since the day Ruby told them about the new art gallery, the Nolans had come up in conversation at least ten times a day.

"Emma has an illogical hatred of wealthy people," laughed Ruby who was now placing the spaceships where the puppies should be.

"I do not," Emma retorted, snatching a spaceship right out of Ruby's hand. "I just don't think we should fawn all over them!"

Just as Ruby pursed her red lips to respond, the bell rang signaling that a customer had come in the front door.

"Hello," said a very handsome man with golden hair and pale blue eyes. He must have been new to the area because Emma had never seen him before.

"Hello," greeted Mary Margaret with a smile. "How might we help you?"

"I'm looking for a gift for my nephew," explained the newcomer, awkwardly. "Only…I'm not sure what to get him. Do you know what five-year-olds are into these days?"

Mary Margaret laughed and stepped out from behind the counter. "We have some finger paints he might like. Or perhaps a coloring book?"

"Oh! A coloring book!" replied the man following Mary Margaret through the store. "Yes, that sounds lovely. A coloring book would be marvelous. I do love reading!"

Ruby started to giggle, but Emma gave her a sharp elbow to the ribs. It had been a while since she had seen Mary Margaret smile as much as she was now, and she wasn't about to let Ruby spoil it.

"Oh…" said Mary Margaret, finding that it was her turn to feel awkward. "You don't usually read a coloring book. They're mainly just pictures. But I'm sure we can special order one for you that has a story in it!"

"No no!" insisted the newcomer. "That won't be necessary. My mistake. Pictures would be perfect. I'm not even sure if five-year-olds can read yet…. Can they?"

"Perhaps some can," replied Mary Margaret, sheepishly. "Here you are. This is our selection of coloring books. Can I get you anything else..umm?"

"Call me John," offered the man. "Yes, I noticed you have an interesting collection of ceramic figurines over there."

Emma and Ruby quickly pretended to be busy shelving figurines when John's eyes shot over in their direction.

"Yes, usually we let the children decorate them, but if you would like to decorate one for your nephew, I'm sure Emma or Ruby would be happy to show you the ropes."

Emma and Ruby exchanged a meaningful look before Ruby suddenly said, "Oh darn, I forgot I promised to pick up some groceries for my granny's diner! I hope you don't mind Mary Margaret. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Oh ok," said Mary Margaret whose gaze had now shifted to Emma.

"Actually, it's quite a lot of groceries. Isn't Ruby? I'd better help her out," Emma explained.

"I guess you'll have to show me then," said John turning to Mary Margaret, hopefully.

Mary Margaret blushed slightly and rubbed the back of her neck. "Alright, if you'll just follow me this way." The pair made their way to the designating painting area in the back of the shop and started whispering. Just as Emma followed Ruby out the door, she heard Mary Margaret laugh and couldn't help but think that it was the most marvelous sound in the world.


	3. Evening's Greetings

"Are you ready yet, Ruby?" Emma called from the hallway. The evening for the Nolans's party had finally arrived. Emma, Mary Margaret, and Belle were all waiting in Ruby's entryway as their friend tried on outfit after outfit in pursuit of the perfect ensemble.

"Almost, I swear," called Ruby's voice through the door. "Just…a…few…final…touches…and…" The door swung open, and Ruby strutted out into the hall wearing a skintight black dress with bright red pumps. "All done!"

Completely oblivious to the shocked silence, Ruby beamed brightly at her coworkers until her sparkling eyes found Mary Margaret. "Look at you," she cooed. "You're positively blooming!"

It was true, there had been a change in Mary Margaret over the past week. The Painted Heart's newest customer had come back to put a smile on her face two more times since his initial visit. He even brought his little nephew Patrick with him the last time he was there to paint a spaceship. Apparently, the puppy John had made for him on his first visit was for "babies."

"I still don't understand why you didn't ask John to come tonight," said Ruby. "I'm sure he would have been thrilled."

"I barely know him!" exclaimed Mary Margaret with a blush. "Besides, he is a customer, and our relationship is strictly professional."

"Strictly professional," agreed Belle absentmindedly while she leafed through one of Mary Margaret's cookbooks.

"Professional my eye!" laughed Ruby adjusting her hair in the mirror. "I heard how he complimented your smile the other day! I think your relationship is a little more than professional."

"My what big ears you have!" teased Emma, seeing that Mary Margaret was too embarrassed to respond.

"All the better to hear with!" chanted Ruby, happily. "How do you think I always get the scoop?"

"Well, can you hear the clock tower strike 8?" asked Emma, weaving her arm through Mary Margaret's. "If we don't leave now, we'll be late!"

"Okay okay!" fussed Ruby, hurriedly applying her signature red lipstick. "There! I'm ready!"

* * *

Fairy tales. That was all Emma could think about when she arrived at the Nolans's party, which was set in a little roped off area inside of Riverside Park. The whole place looked like something out of a fairy tale book. Beautiful colored lanterns swung gently on wires above the guests' heads, silver platters weighed down with various hors d'oeuvre spun around on the hands of waiters clad in black and white, and sweet music from the band washed over the crowd, many of whom were already dancing on the tile floor laid out over the grass.

"What did I tell you about these parties?" whispered a very pleased Ruby in Emma's ear. "Oh! Open bar! See you later, girls!"

Ruby disappeared into the crowd leaving Emma, Belle and Mary Margaret hovering awkwardly by the corner of the dance floor.

"Should we sit down?" offered Mary Margaret looking around the array of round tables, which were topped with clean white tablecloths and elegant floral centerpieces.

"Let's," agreed Emma, pulling Belle along as the trio weaved through the crowd toward an empty table near the corner of the party.

"There you are, Deary!" called a high-pitched voice that made Emma's skin crawl. "Have you forgotten our arrangement already?"

"Mr. Gold!" greeted Emma, turning around with a forced smile. "I was just helping Mary Margaret and Belle to a table."

"Oh that is not a job for one so lovely as you," said Gold with an overly formal bow. "They have waiters and such for that sort of thing."

Emma tried to contain the scoff that was forcing its way out of her throat before saying, "well, shall we?" It was a firm belief of Emma's that uncomfortable situations should be gotten over with as soon as possible.

"We shall," answered Gold with a crooked smile as he held out a long knobby hand to his reluctant dance partner. And with one longing glance toward her friends, Emma found herself swept onto the dance floor for the most unpleasant waltz of her life. In fact, it was the only waltz of her life. Thus, when Emma continuously missed steps and tread on Mr. Gold's toes, the man became very displeased and did not hesitate to criticize her on her poor dancing abilities.

"You know, it is very unbecoming for a lady to not know how to dance properly," he lectured. "You should practice more. I know a very capable dance instructor."

"Oh that's okay, Mr. Gold," Emma assured him. "I wouldn't have time for dance lessons. We wouldn't want the shop to suffer."

Despite being only 21, Emma prided herself on her keen ability to assess people's character, and she knew that such a shrewd businessman as Mr. Gold would never want to put his investments at risk.

"Right you are, Deary!" agreed Gold, heartily. "You have a good head for business. That is why we make such a good team. Don't you think?"

Emma felt suddenly nauseous, which was why it took her a little longer to notice that the crowd had become suddenly quiet, as everyone's attention was diverted toward the entrance. Three elegant figures stood at the gates: one man and two women. Emma didn't recognize the women, but she was shocked to identify the man as none other than Mary Margaret's new favorite customer, John. She simply couldn't understand why the man would attract so much interest from the crowd. After all, he was good-looking, but he wasn't that good-looking.

"Ah," said Gold, seeing Emma's confusion and feeling pleased that he held the answers she so clearly sought. "Here are David and Kathryn Nolan! The stars of the evening!"

"What?" croaked Emma, snapping her head around to face Mr. Gold. "That man is David Nolan?"

"Who else would he be?" asked Mr. Gold, shocked at Emma's slowness to understand.

"Excuse me," said Emma, abruptly walking away and heading in the direction of Mary Margaret. When she arrived at the table, she could tell Mary Margaret had already figured out David Nolan's trickery.

"That lowlife lying bastard of a man!" spat Emma, angrily. "What could he have been thinking? Why would he misrepresent himself like that?"

While Emma continued her rant, Mary Margaret sat quietly and watched the newcomers as they strolled deeper into the party, greeting guests as they went. It was lucky she did too, because she was able to get Emma's attention just in time to stop her rant as Mr. Gold approached the table followed by the Nolan's themselves.

"Evening, Dearies," he greeted. "Might I have the honor of introducing David and Kathryn Nolan the founders of the Storybrooke Art Gallery and their lovely friend Regina Mills who just so happens to be the daughter of the great Cora Mills!"

"Regina is here as my friend, Mr Gold," interrupted Kathryn Nolan, a sophisticated-looking woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Emma's attention was then directed to the woman who's shoulder Kathryn was holding onto. Regina Mills had short silky black hair, deliciously red lips, deep brown eyes and wore a very expensive looking full-length gown.

But Emma didn't have time to check out Regina Mills, she was too busy fuming over Kathryn's lying husband.

"Oh hello, Mr. Nolan, Mrs. Nolan, Ms. Mills," said Emma in mocked politeness. "You want to know something funny?" Emma's eyes bore into David. "When I saw you walk in, I totally thought your name was John or something!"

"Actually that's his middle name!" replied Kathryn, completely oblivious to the tension around her. "Are you a psychic?"

"Definitely not," answered Emma. "If I were I would have known that…"

"Mrs. Nolan!" chirped Mary Margaret, effectively cutting Emma off and holding her hand out to Kathryn. "I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard. I own the Painted Heart across the street from your new art gallery."

"Oh! Miss Blanchard!" cooed Kathryn, lightly clasping Mary Margaret's fingers in hers. "What a pleasure. We're still on to meet tomorrow morning I take it?"

"Yes of course!" agreed Mary Margaret. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Yes," said Kathryn before turning to face her friend. "Regina, have you seen the ice sculptures yet? I simply must show you the ice swan."

Kathryn didn't give her friend time to respond before leading her away as she called back, "Nice meeting you all!"

"Mary Margaret," began David, looking rather awkward. "Please let me explain!"

"David," beckoned Kathryn in an authoritative tone. "Aren't you coming?"

With a reluctant look back at Mary Margaret, David followed Kathryn away, leaving Emma, Belle, and Mary Margaret looking after the group in silence.

"I should go with them," chimed Gold, who had been forgotten. "You know, introduce them to the crowd and all. Very important business."

"What detestable people!" spat Emma, still glaring after the Nolans.

"I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding," tried Mary Margaret, but even she seemed a little less certain than usual.

* * *

Emma wanted to leave the party as soon as she met the hosts, but Mary Margaret, ever the picture of politeness, convinced her to stay.

"We can't leave! How would that look to them?" reasoned Mary Margaret, practically holding Emma back from making a run for the exit.

"I don't care about what those people think!" exclaimed Emma. "Did you see how Kathryn Nolan looked at us? Like we were nothing but dirt under her shoes! I'm sure her friend is no better, and her husband is a lying cheat!"

"Please stay," pleaded Mary Margaret who was growing more exhausted as the evening went on. "For me?"

"Fine," yielded Emma, crossing her arms. "But I'm not going to enjoy it."

"Thank you," said Mary Margaret, finally letting go of Emma's arm.

They sat quietly for a few tense moments until David Nolan returned—this time he was alone.

"Mary Margaret," he began meekly. "Can I talk to you in private?"

"No!" interjected Emma, taking Mary Margaret's hand. "Anything you have to say to Mary Margaret, you can say in front of us."

With a look from Emma, Belle quickly added her agreement, and David found he had no choice but to comply.

"I know I misrepresented myself to you when we met," he said. "I just wanted the chance to meet you without having to be David Nolan for a change. After Archie told me about you, I wanted to see who you really were. People tend to act differently when they know I'm a Nolan…"

"Yes, people tend not to be receptive to being hit on by married men!" Scoffed Emma.

Keeping his focus on Mary Margaret, David continued, "I'm not married. Not anymore anyway. Kathryn and I divorced over 2 years ago, but we chose not to make it public for the sake of our business."

"I don't understand," said Mary Margaret, softly.

"Just please," continued David with a step closer. "Can I talk to you alone."

"No!" barked Emma, still not convinced that the man was trustworthy.

"It's okay," soothed Mary Margaret, squeezing Emma's hand. "I'd like to talk to David alone."

Emma looked at Mary Margaret hard for a few moments before finally conceding. "Come on, Belle. Let's go rescue Ruby from the bar."

* * *

"He what?" said Ruby, spitting her drink back into her glass. Emma had just replayed what had happened with David Nolan to her, as Belle looked dreamily into the distance. "How am I the last to know about this?"

"Perhaps those big ears don't work so well when they're full of alcohol," offered Emma, teasingly.

Ruby repaid her with a smirk and an eye roll. "So what do you think they're talking about now?" she asked.

Ruby and Emma both looked over to the table where Mary Margaret and David were talking earnestly. They didn't seem upset.

"She's probably forgiven him," predicted Emma. It was just like Mary Margaret to think the best of a lying scoundrel.

"Maybe she has reason to," replied Ruby, resting her chin on her hand and watching the pair.

"I doubt it," said Emma, taking a swig from her beer bottle.

"At least we'd be in good standing with the art gallery," offered Ruby. "You know, business hasn't exactly been booming lately."

"I couldn't care less about the Storybrooke Art Gallery," Emma exclaimed, slamming her bottle down on the bar. "They can take their big ugly building and go."

"Big ugly building?" came a sultry voice to Emma's right. "That's an interesting perspective. I'll be sure to consider it for the next building I design."

Emma snapped her head around to find Regina Mills leaning against the bar beside her. "I don't believe we were properly introduced last time. Regina Mills, architect." Regina held out a well-manicured hand to Emma who by this time had turned a glorious shade of pink.

"Emma Swan," she replied, taking Regina's hand tentatively. "I'm sorry, I wouldn't have said that if I had known…"

"No need to apologize, Miss Swan. I'm not offended. Besides, I wouldn't expect one such as yourself to know much about architectural design."

"What's that supposed to mean?" All traces of Emma's remorse instantaneously evaporated.

"It just means that as a shop assistant, you have not had the opportunity to study architecture. You cannot deny this."

"No but…"

"Therefore, I cannot hold you responsible for your poor taste. Ah, there's my drink! I really must be going now. Take care, dear."

It would be no surprise at all if steam were actually shooting out Emma's ears as she watched the brunette strut away in her Prada pumps. It was as if with every step she were rubbing in her victory over Emma.

"Tell Mary Margaret I'm sorry," instructed Emma to Belle or Ruby or whoever really. "But I just couldn't take it anymore."

And with that Emma Swan left the party.


	4. Speaking From the Heart

Emma walked into the Painted Heart the following morning to find everyone in an uproar. Belle paced behind the counter looking rather confused, while Ruby followed Mary Margaret around like a dog, as they flew through the shop making sure everything was in order. Emma noticed Mary Margaret wore a gray pencil skirt and matching blazer. Only then did she remember the meeting with the Nolans.

"Oh my god! The meeting!" exclaimed Emma, her hand shooting up to her cheek. "I completely forgot!"

"It's alright, Emma," called Mary Margaret from behind the figurine shelves. "I totally understand. I heard about what happened with Regina Mills. I can't believe how she treated you!"

Emma wasn't sure her ears were working properly. Did Mary Margaret just admit that someone's behavior was less than good? "Yes, well it's safe to say I'll never be speaking to her again," she replied.

"Well, don't you want to know how it went?" urged Ruby with a gleam in her eye. "Tell her, M! "

"Okay okay! The Nolan's thought a partnership between the gallery and the shop was a charming idea!" announced Mary Margaret, clapping her hands. "The Painted Heart will receive funding for our art lessons and supplies in exchange for us hosting events for kids at the gallery from time to time. Kathryn wants to come over later today for a tour. David of course has already been here, but we agreed last night that we should keep that a secret between us."

"Uhh..right," said Emma. "So you and David…"

"They're in love!' chanted Ruby, holding a puppy and a racecar, which she passed to Mary Margaret to shelve.

"He has asked to have dinner with me, that is all" said Mary Margaret, happily. "Only we have to keep our relationship a secret for the sake of the business."

"So he wants you to sneak around with him like a mistress," replied Emma, still unwilling to trust the newcomer.

"Not a mistress, Emma," laughed Mary Margaret, unperturbed by her friend's cynicism. "He is divorced, but Kathryn refuses to make it public. She thinks the business will suffer if people know about it."

"Aren't you at all concerned that she won't make it public because she wants David back," asked Emma, attempting to peer around the figurine shelve from where she stood at the door.

"Not at all," Mary Margaret assured her. "Kathryn is actually very nice when you get to know her. I had a lovely conversation with her this morning. David doesn't want her to know about our relationship just yet, but I was watching her closely, and she treats him just as a business partner and nothing more."

Emma remained unconvinced but thought it better to not press the matter further for the present. Instead, she set about helping Belle clean up the shop.

Just when things started to settle down, the bell to the front door rang and a child's voice called out, "Emmy! I'm here for my art lesson!"

"Is that little August?" cooed Emma, coming out from behind the counter. "Did you grow since the last time I saw you?"

"You saw me last week, silly!" replied the boy, who Emma had been teaching to paint for the past year and a half. He jumped familiarly into her arms for a hug. "What are we gonna paint today?"

"Hmmm…" considered Emma, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "How about a fairy?"

"Yes!" agreed August, excitedly. "A blue fairy!"

"Be good, August," instructed Marco, the boy's father, who had come in quietly behind his son.

"Okay, Dad," answered August, running to the back of the shop where the art lessons were held.

Emma waved to Marco before quickly following her pupil who had already pulled out a child-sized easel and now sought a fresh canvas.

Emma always enjoyed her work teaching kids to paint. Painting was practically a form of therapy to her. She rarely shared her work with others, but she had a makeshift studio on one side of her apartment in which she created her own little masterpieces.

Emma quickly became absorbed in her lesson with August, and time slipped away from her. It seemed barely a minute before the door rang again and in came Kathryn, David and…Emma couldn't believe her eyes, Regina Mills. Emma quickly looked away in case that intolerable woman noticed her staring. Her ears, on the other hand, remained angled toward the door.

"Hello!" greeted Mary Margaret, coming forward to shake the trio by the hands. "Welcome to the Painted Heart, the friendliest little art shop in the Upper West Side."

"Charming!" praised David, immediately walking around the store and picking up objects to inspect more closely.

"I agree," added Kathryn, walking around more serenely than her ex. "Just the sort of place for children to enjoy. Don't you agree, Regina?"

"It is adequate," Regina answered curtly before absorbing herself in a child-friendly book about Frida Kahlo.

Mary Margaret coughed uncomfortably before launching into a detailed history of the shop and the details of its day-to-day business and clientele.

Meanwhile, Emma lost interest in the visitors and turned her attention back to August, who was struggling to get the proper proportions on his fairy's elaborate wings.

"Relax, August," she whispered, soothingly. "Don't think too much about what you're drawing. Take it one piece at a time."

"It looks dumb," said August, dejectedly. "I'm never gonna be able to paint like you."

"Of course not," replied Emma. "You're going to paint like you. That's the great thing about art, August. Every artist is different. You can't expect to paint like someone else, because we all see the world a little bit differently. If we were all the same, art wouldn't be very interesting to look at now would it?"

"Exactly," chimed in a cool voice that rendered Emma paralyzed. "For example, when I look at the building across the street, I see a perfect example of modern architecture, whereas Miss Swan here sees a gargantuan eye sore. Isn't that right, Miss Swan?"

"Ms. Mills," Emma greeted half-heartedly, as she stood up from her child-sized chair. "What a pleasure. To what do we owe the honor of your presence here?"

"I am merely here to make sure Kathryn isn't doing anything stupid with this little…arrangement she has going with you people."

"Ahh, yes. Wouldn't want Miss Nolan getting too close to the likes of us…people."

"Don't misunderstand me. Kathryn likes to make rash decisions, and I take it as my responsibility as her friend to protect her."

"I don't doubt it. You're obviously such a kind and caring person."

"Miss Swan, are you always so sarcastic?"

"Are you always so conceited?"

Regina took a slow breath before stepping closer to Emma. "I think you are confused about the difference between conceit and pride. I take pride in my work, Miss Swan. I also take pride in my ability to make sound judgments, a quality that too many people are deficient in. Tell me, do you consider pride a fault or a virtue?"

Before Emma could answer, her attention was caught by an awkward cough from nearby. Both Emma and Regina stepped away from each other quickly when they saw David, Kathryn, Ruby, and Mary Margaret standing in silent audience of their argument with slightly stunned expressions on their faces.

"Umm…" began Mary Margaret, breaking the silence. "This is the craft area where we have art lessons and where kids can paint their own ceramic figurines. We are especially known for our ceramic hearts. You know…Painted Heart"

"Oh!" said David, enthusiastically. "How charming. Do you think we could give it a go?"

"Paint ceramic hearts?" asked Mary Margaret.

"Yes!" replied David, "It sounds like so much fun!"

Not surprisingly, Mary Margaret agreed. She began handing out little white ceramic hearts to each of her guests, including Regina, who took the heart reluctantly before perching on one of the child-sized chairs as if she were afraid it carried a viral disease.

For a while all was silent as Emma returned her attention to August, and the others painted wordlessly.

"Hey, Regina," chimed Kathryn suddenly. "Don't you think Henry would just love this place?"

"I take Henry to Utrecht," explained Regina, dipping a tiny plastic paintbrush into a jar of pink acrylic paint. She regarded both objects with contempt. "Where they sell real art supplies."

"Henry is such a talented young artist," said Kathryn, turning to Mary Margaret. "You really should see some of his paintings. You wouldn't believe he is only 10 years old!"

"I'm sorry," responded Mary Margaret, a confused look on her face. "Who is Henry?"

"Regina's son of course!" exclaimed Kathryn as if it were the most commonly known fact in the world. "I envy her exceedingly. I wish I could be the mother of such a talented little prodigy, but I have to make due with being Auntie Kathryn instead."

"You should bring him here!" said Mary Margaret, excitedly. "I think he and Emma would have a lot in common. She's a painter too."

"Really?" asked Regina, her voice cool as mint. "Is that true, Miss Swan? Do you consider yourself an artist?"

Emma looked up to find Regina's piercing brown eyes boring into her mercilessly. "I wouldn't go that far. I just paint when I have the time."

"Are you any good?" inquired Kathryn, turning to face Emma. "David and I are always looking for fresh new artists for our gallery."

"Oh," replied Emma, uncomfortably. "That would be very nice, but I really just paint for myself."

"I've not even seen Emma's work." Ruby explained. "She's very secretive about it. I've only heard second-hand descriptions from Mary Margaret.

"She's incredible," exclaimed Mary Margaret without missing a beat. "The rest of the world is really missing out."

"Would you show us some of your paintings, Emma?" asked David, innocently. "If you're as good as Mary Margaret says…"

"I couldn't," replied Emma, her cheeks now mirroring the pink of the paint they were using.

"Please?" pressed David.

A clutter drew everyone's attention toward Regina.

"Oh no, Regina!" laughed Kathryn. "You've spilled black paint all over your heart!"

It was true. Regina's heart, which had been bright pink with her name written in perfect calligraphy, was now covered in inky black blotches.

"My hands are too big for these little brushes and paint bottles," scoffed Regina without looking up. "This is obviously a silly pastime meant for children."

Regina stood up from her chair without another word and returned to the bookshelf she had been perusing at the beginning of the visit.

"I think it's time to go." Excused Kathryn, awkwardly. "Your store is lovely, Mary Margaret. Archie will have the papers over to you by tomorrow."

'Thank you so much!" said Mary Margaret, standing to see her guests out the door.

After the shop was clear, Mary Margaret and Ruby started dancing gleefully around the shop. It seemed the proper thing to do after one saves her business from certain failure. But Emma couldn't understand their reaction. Why celebrate selling yourself to conceited rich people who would just be another entity controlling the shop? First Gold, now the Nolans: Mary Margaret was giving Painted Heart away piece by piece, and that was nothing to dance about. Instead, Emma remained focused on her pupil until his dad came by to pick him up a few hours later.

Emma had barely seen August out the door when Ruby descended upon her. "What the hell was up with you and Regina Mills?"

"I don't know what you mean," replied Emma, returning to the back of the shop to clean up after her art lesson.

"I have never heard her talk that much." Exclaimed Ruby, tailing Emma around the shop. "Seriously! It has always been like one syllable words from her, but you had her practically breathless!"

"She's an egotistical, conceited snob!" spat Emma. "What do you want me to say?"

"I agree whole-heartedly," replied Ruby, holding up her hands defensively. "But she's mainly aloof. You seem to egg her on though…"

"I can't imagine why!" said Emma, glaring at the building across the street.

Emma's glare fell on the blackened heart still sitting on the table, and she picked it up. It felt small and cold in her hand. "If she means to intimidate me, it will not work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed the story so far! Let me know what you think, I'm always looking for ways to improve :)


	5. Guy Lines

"Red," said Ruby with her eyes on her prey. "Definitely the red one." She strutted over to the rack and picked up a strapless satin dress, smiling approvingly at it.

"Is that a shirt or a dress?" asked Emma, picking up a dark green one-strap gown of considerably longer length.

"I don't understand why they are throwing a ball," observed Belle, who was looking at a gold dress on a mannequin. "It seems to me that there are better ways to spend an evening."

"It's for the grand opening of the Storybrooke Art Gallery!" Exclaimed Ruby matter-of-factly. "And the Nolans won't settle for anything less than a major shindig."

It was a truth universally acknowledged that the Nolans threw the most impressive of parties, and the opening of their latest art gallery was sure to be a night worth remembering. Emma, Ruby, and Belle had gone shopping for dresses, while Mary Margaret spent the day with David Nolan. The pair had been together a lot since the day the Nolans came to see the shop. Emma had mixed feelings about the budding relationship. She was glad that it made Mary Margaret so happy, but Emma's more cynical side told her that such a coupling could only spell trouble.

"What do you think M and David are up to?" asked Ruby as if she had read Emma's mind.

"Probably making moon-eyes at each other in the park," predicted Emma, holding the green gown up to her frame in front of a mirror.

"Stunning," announced a deep masculine voice that was clearly out of place in the dress department. Turning around, Emma saw a handsome man with startlingly blue eyes bordered by dark liner. He wore a leather jacket and a series of silver rings on his fingers. Emma didn't know what to say, so she stared instead.

"I apologize for startling you," continued the stranger. "My name is Killian Jones."

"Hi," said Emma awkwardly. She felt utterly confused. The man looked more like he belonged in the CBGB than in a department store. "So…Mr. Jones …May I ask what a tough-looking guy like you is doing in the women's dress department?"

"You may, but please, just call me Killian," he replied with an impish grin. "Don't worry, I'm not a cross-dresser or anything like that. I'm just on an assignment from my boss. She sends me to do all her…dirty work."

"I see," said Emma, raising her eyebrows. "And dirty work is you doing her dress shopping?"

"Something like that," answered Killian, his smile growing wider. "And might I ask what a lovely young lady such as yourself is doing shopping all alone?"

"Oh, I'm not alone," corrected Emma, turning around to point out Ruby and Belle. "I'm with my…" Emma stared at the places her friends had been standing mere minutes ago. They had miraculously disappeared. Peering farther down, she noticed the tops of two heads ducking behind some distant clothing racks. Emma sighed.

"Keeping company with clothes racks are we?" teased Killian, walking over to a puffy blue gown and pulling the sleeve into a handshake. "Hello there. I'm Killian Jones. I've just met your lovely friend…"

"Emma."

"Emma, and she really is lovely."

"Well…" Emma again found herself at a loss for words. "I should be going." Throwing the green gown over her arm, she started making a B-line for the nearest cashier.

"So soon?" said Killian with disappointment. "Hey, listen. Would you want to grab a coffee?"

"I don't know…I'm pretty busy." Replied Emma one foot angled toward the cash register and the other toward the handsome stranger.

"Just one quick coffee! Surely you can spare a few minutes for a poor working man."

Emma thought for a moment before finally conceding. She bought her dress, and walked out of the store with Killian. Belle and Ruby could find their own way. After all, they were the ones who ditched her.

* * *

"So where are you going in that dress?" asked Killian, holding the door to the coffee shop open.

"Just a work thing," replied Emma, feeling weird about divulging too much information to a perfect stranger. No matter how good-looking he was.

"Just a work thing?" repeated Killian, looking affronted. "You in that dress for just a work thing? What a waste!"

"You've got to do what you've got to do," shrugged Emma.

"True," replied Killian, his grin returning. "And right now what you've got to do is tell me what you want to drink so I can buy it for you."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," said Emma, smiling brightly.

"I insist," answered Killian, placing his ring-covered hand over his chest.

"Ok. Can I have…a hot cocoa with cinnamon, please?"

"Your wish is my command."

Killian walked confidently toward the counter, leaving Emma alone at a little table by the window. She sat quietly for a few moments watching people flowing in and out of the coffee shop until she noticed one of them was returning her gaze. Oh God. Oh no. It was Regina Mills.

"Good day, Miss Swan," greeted Regina after their mutual recognition made it necessary for her to come over.

"Hello," replied Emma hesitantly. Their last conversation certainly had not gone well, and Emma felt nervous about creating a scene in such a crowded place. However, Regina did not look peeved by the sight of her. In fact, if Emma wasn't mistaken, she looked…pleased. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you I imagine," smirked Regina, holding up a cup of coffee. "I work just down the street. What about you?"

"Getting a drink with a friend," replied Emma, looking over at Killian who was smiling at her from the counter. Regina followed her gaze, and then Emma witnessed a very bizarre thing. As soon as Killian saw Regina, his smile disappeared. But it was only for a moment. It then returned but was different from before: less friendly and somehow colder. Emma was simply bewildered.

"Well, I should get back to work," said Regina, harshly. Emma turned back and noticed that her demeanor had changed too. Regina's scowl had returned, and she purposely angled herself away from Killian's direction. "Nice seeing you, Miss Swan."

She was gone before Emma could reply.

"Here we are! One piping hot cup of cocoa with a dash of cinnamon!" announced Killian a few minutes later, as he returned to Emma. All signs of his odd encounter with Regina were completely gone. But Emma could not be so imprudent.

"So…tell me, Emma, what do you do for a living?" asked Killian still beaming and completely oblivious to Emma's confusion.

"I'm working in a shop," answered Emma hastily. If she was going to do this, she better do it quickly before she lost her nerve. "What was that about?"

"What was what about, Love?" replied Killian, black-rimmed eyes peering over his mug.

"I'm sorry," continued Emma. "I don't mean to pry, but I couldn't help but notice what happened when you saw Regina earlier."

"Oh that…"

"You don't have to tell me."

"No no! It's not a secret. Miss Mills and I…well…we go way back."

"Oh?"

"Yes. In fact, we practically grew up together."

"Really? Because it seemed…"

"Like we hated each others guts?"

Emma smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, I supposed that wouldn't be far from the truth." Killian took a long sip of coffee. "You know that boss I was telling you about?"

"The one that makes you do her dress shopping?"

"Yes. Well, my boss happens to be Regina's mother…"

"Your boss is Cora Mills?" Emma's green eyes nearly doubled in size.

"The one and only." Killian continued his typical grin until witnessing the look on Emma's face. "What? You seem like that news doesn't sit well with you."

"Well…" Emma began, how could she word this? "She sort of tried to buy the shop that I work at…"

"Oh! You work for that old lady do you? She's a tough one she is."

"Mary Margaret is not old…" replied Emma, knitting her eyebrows.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Said Killian quickly. "Right. You work at the Painted Heart."

"Yes."

"And I imagine you're none to happy with Mrs. Mills trying to buy it up?"

"Yes."

"We're sorry about that. That annoying little crocodile of a man-what's his name? Mr. Gold. He told Mrs. Mills that your shop was in dire need of saving. Cora's a good person at heart. She was just trying to help you out. I don't know why she listens to Mr. Gold. An honest misunderstanding it was."

Emma stirred her cocoa with a spoon while she spun Killian's explanation around in her mind. She had no reason to think ill of Cora Mills. She'd never even met the woman, and Emma was reluctant to take the word of Mr. Gold about Cora "not taking rejection lightly." Maybe she really was just trying to help…

"I suppose that I can get where your boss was coming from…" She finally conceded.

"Good! I'm so glad! I really hate when kind people don't get along with each other, and I can tell you're a kind person, Emma." Killian gave her a wink.

"But you still haven't answered my question. What happened with Regina?"

"You're a sharp one, Miss Swan. Yes, Regina and I don't get along too well these days. You see, my father used to be Regina's father's right hand man. He was the manager of the Enchanted Forest when the Mills were just starting out. When my father died…Mr. Mills took me under his wing. He treated me just like a son. He even wrote me into his will to say that I should inherit 20 percent of the profit made by the Mills Empire. But Regina didn't like that idea. She resented her father's affection for me. Unfortunately, Mr. Mills died before his new will became official, and Regina destroyed it before anyone else ever saw it. She's due to inherit the entire Mills fortune after her mother dies. Cora, bless her heart, took pity on me and hired me as her personal assistant. She dared not promote me to a higher rank in case it incurred Regina's wrath. I don't mind living plainly, I honestly don't. I just hate to think the dear Mr. Mills' last wish was ignored…"

"Of course!" cried Emma, horrified. "How could Regina mistreat you so? How could she so blatantly disregard her father's wishes? It's too awful to comprehend!"

"I don't blame her so much," replied Killian, shaking his head. "She was lonely as a child. Her father was her only friend. I understand where she's coming from."

"You're too good," said Emma, incredulous. "She doesn't deserve your understanding."

* * *

Emma was still fuming inwardly at the injustice Regina caused when she arrived back at the shop later that day. It must have been all over her face because she could see Ruby giving her a concerned look from behind the figurine shelves.

"Didn't go well?" she asked, partially hiding behind the shelf like a guilty dog.

"Huh?" asked Emma, shaking out of her mental storm. "Oh! You traitors! You just left me!"

"That's what you're mad about?" asked Ruby, shocked. "We were doing you a favor. He was crazy hot."

"Yes," agreed Emma. But seeing Ruby's delight, she quickly added, "but you just left me alone. What if he had been a serial killer of something?"

"Oh please," countered Ruby. "You were just fine. I saw how you lit up. You were totally flirting with him."

Emma finally smiled, but was stopped by Ruby's sudden awkward expression. Following Ruby's gaze behind her, she turned around to find Mr. Gold standing by the door. She hadn't even heard the bell ring.

"Miss Swan," began Gold, his face rigid. He had clearly heard at least some of the conversation. "I was wondering if I could have a word with you? Alone if you please."

Emma had never felt such a combination of embarrassment and disgust as she did right at that moment. What on earth could Mr. Gold want to talk to her about? Still, she followed the man onto the sidewalk outside the shop.

"I consider myself a lucky man." Began Mr. Gold. He wasn't even looking at Emma, he was looking out onto the street. "I have a successful business, I have useful connections. Many men would consider themselves perfectly content to be in my shoes. But still…I feel that my life could be made better if I were to have some form of…companionship."

Gold paused, and Emma felt her spine freeze one vertebrae at a time.

"I look for many things in a companion. I think a man of my station has every right to be choosey. Physical beauty is of course something to be admired, but I also admire grace and economy. Traits I believe you possess, Miss Swan. That is why I'd like to ask you if you would like to go to dinner with me. This dinner, obviously, would mark the beginning of our courtship together. I think you will find that I have more than enough means to provide for a lady such as yourself. I imagine any woman would consider herself lucky to be selected as I have selected you…"

"Mr. Gold!" interjected Emma. She couldn't stand to hear another word. "I appreciate your offer, but I cannot accept it!"

Mr. Gold stared at Emma for a moment in silence. His disbelief at her reaction was evident.

"I know you are currently thinking of some other man right now," he said awkwardly. "But might I remind you that you only just met him, and he is most likely not as financially successful as I am. Besides he might be as you said…a serial killer"

"I don't care about financial success, Mr. Gold." Replied Emma, moving back towards the door of the shop. "I don't think of you in that way."

"But you flirt with any man you see on the street?" spat Mr. Gold, angrily. "Like some common whore?"

Emma froze with her hand reaching for the door. What was going on with the world today? Why was everyone so black hearted and despicable?

Emma couldn't take it anymore. A surge of white-hot rage shot from her chest down her arm to her fist where it collided with Mr. Gold's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, so much drama in this chapter!
> 
> For my fellow Janeites: you may have noticed I've been mixing up the Pride and Prejudice plot a bit. I'm going to keep doing that, but I promise to remain true to the story's message!


	6. Cinder-Emma

Peace. Tranquility. Serenity. Focus, Emma. She closed her eyes. Breathe in…

"OH MY GOD! Have you seen the chocolate fountain?" cried Ruby coming up from behind. Emma sighed. She should have known better than to try to find a moment's peace when she was surrounded by the blinding glamour of the Nolan's grand opening ball.

"No I haven't. Maybe you should go check it out for me." Emma said, reluctantly reopening her eyes.

"Ohh, snippy this evening," replied Ruby ignoring Emma's suggestion and sitting across from her. "I'll forgive you since I know you're just upset that a certain hottie isn't here."

"Who?" asked Belle who for once in her life, was not holding a book. It hadn't been her idea of course. Ruby had strictly forbidden it.

"Mr. Killian Jones," cooed Ruby, giving Emma a teasing look. "Have you forgotten already, Belle? You were with me when she met him!"

"Oh yeah," replied Belle, resting her chin in her hand and looking quite forlorn.

"Actually," interjected Emma. "I'm just trying to make it through tonight without…"

"Punching someone?" Ruby teased. Ruby of course witnessed Emma's ordeal with Mr. Gold through the window, and had thoroughly enjoyed recounting it to everyone in her acquaintance. Unfortunately for Emma, Ruby had a rather large supply of acquaintances.

"No!" corrected Emma. "Without any drama!"

"Why would you want to do that?" asked a bewildered Ruby, nearly choking on the cherry from her Manhattan cocktail.

"Not everyone thrives off a good story," replied Belle, looking around the room.

"That's funny coming from you," countered Ruby with a giggle.

"Emma," came Mary Margaret's soft voice as she walked gracefully toward the table. "Can I talk to you?"

"Okay…" replied Emma with interest. She followed Mary Margaret away from the table until they found a sparsely populated corner in front of a painting of Lord Byron wearing a Mardis Gras mask.

"I talked to David about Regina," began Mary Margaret.

"Oh no," Emma blurted out. Of course, she had told Mary Margaret what Killian said about Regina. After all, she had to tell someone or her head would explode. "Please tell me you didn't…."

"Don't worry," interjected Mary Margaret who knew Emma well enough to predict what she was going to say. "I didn't recount the details of your new friend's story to him. I just asked if he knew of any history between Regina and Killian Jones."

"Hmmm…" replied Emma, crossing her arms with mocked skepticism. "And what did he say?"

"He said that he knew Regina and Killian have a history going back to when they were just kids. He isn't sure about the details, but he says he believes that Killian committed a real injustice against Regina. I can ask Kathryn. I'm sure she'll know more."

"NO!" screeched Emma attracting the questioning gazes of a couple sitting on a nearby bench. Emma quickly lowered her voice. "I mean please don't. Kathryn would surely tell Regina you asked, and I don't want this getting back to her."

"Okay, I won't then," replied Mary Margaret with understanding. "But what do you think? David's account differs profoundly with what Killian told you."

"Does it though?" wondered Emma, looking absentmindedly at the painting on the wall. "It's possible that Regina views Killian's claims on her family's income to be an injustice. I certainly wouldn't be surprised."

"I don't think Regina could be so cruel," said Mary Margaret, joining Emma's surveillance of the painting.

"You realize that means you're calling Killian a liar then, right?" asked Emma. "In this particular case, both parties cannot be in the right."

"Maybe it was simply a misunderstanding," offered Mary Margaret meekly. "You'd be surprised how often that can happen."

"Maybe," conceded Emma, but they both knew that she wasn't convinced.

"There you are," said David, advancing toward them. "I've been looking for you."

"How do you always find me?" laughed Mary Margaret, her entire demeanor changing instantly as a smile stretched her face and her shoulders began making little twitchy movements. Such a dramatic reaction was certainly not lost on Emma.

"It's a super power," replied David, jokingly. "How are you two liking the ball?"

"It's lovely, David," replied Mary Margaret, and Emma quickly agreed.

"Would you like me to show you around the gallery?" offered David politely. "I can point out all the best pieces."

"Oh, yes please!" said Mary Margaret, clapping her hands.

David offered them his arms. "Well, aren't I lucky. I've got a beautiful woman on each arm!" he bragged.

"Yeah, you're a regular lady's man," said Emma, turning her head to conceal an eye roll.

They walked around the gallery like that for quite some time, stopping occasionally for David to recount the details of certain paintings and sculptures. Emma particularly admired a series of icy glassworks by an artist named Elsa. The woman herself happened to be standing nearby, and with an introduction from David, Emma abandoned her status as a third wheel to talk to her.

"You're an artist too?" asked Elsa, tilting her blonde head with interest. "Are you self taught or have you trained somewhere?"

"Self taught mainly," replied Emma, shyly. She didn't usually talk about her art with perfect strangers, but there was something about Elsa that made Emma feel at ease. She felt like they shared some kind of instant connection.

"Have you ever tried showing your work anywhere?"

"Oh no. I couldn't."

"Why not?"

It was so simple a question, yet Emma was completely speechless. Why didn't she ever try to show her work?

"I guess I'm afraid." She finally admitted. "Painting just feels so personal. I guess I feel like if I show my paintings, I'd be somehow…exposed."

"Yes, I admit you are fairly exposed as an artist," agreed Elsa thoughtfully. "But I think that's the point! You're putting yourself out there, and it's really incredible to see how people react to your vision. You obviously love what you do. Don't you think you should give others the chance to love it too?"

"I guess you have a point," thought Emma, looking at one of Elsa's sculptures of two girls holding hands and supposedly spinning in circles. It was a beautiful piece, and Emma noticed several other people admiring it as they walked by. Would they look at her work the same way?

"You can start off small," suggested Elsa. "Maybe just show your work to me? I'd love to see it."

"Okay," agreed Emma with a smile.

"Okay," repeated Elsa, placing a reassuring hand on Emma's arm. "Hey! Let me introduce you to my Aunt Ingrid! She's an artist too!"

Emma followed Elsa along the edges of the room as they struggled to avoid the crowds of people surrounding the more popular works of art. Elsa slowly slipped farther and farther away, and Emma had to crane her neck to see her blonde head bobbing up in down in the sea of people.

OOHF! Emma got the breath knocked out of her as her body collided with another.

"Watch where you're going!" bellowed the chilly voice of Regina Mills just before she realized who her assailant was. There was a moment's silence while the two women processed what had happened. Regina wore a black lacy gown fitted in all the right places, and Emma suddenly became conscious that she still hadn't gotten her breath back. They must have collided harder than she thought. Emma inhaled sharply but froze again when Regina's haughty gaze started trailing down the length of her body.

"Well well well," said Regina with a self-satisfied smile. "Look who's in my ugly building."

"Look," replied Emma, her patience wearing thin. "I'd love to stay and chat about this for the thousandth time, but I'm supposed to be meeting someone."

"Well I wouldn't want to keep you," said Regina, gracefully stepping aside and motioning for Emma to walk past her. Emma started walking away, but stopped suddenly, finding herself overcome by an irresistible urge.

"Seriously," she spat. "What is your deal?"

"My deal?" Regina cocked her head in confusion.

"Yeah. Are you somehow incapable of human emotion?"

"Excuse me?" Regina's characteristic scowl made its return.

"How can you go around treating people the way you do?"

"Why don't you tell me what you're talking about, Miss Swan?"

"Killian Jones."

Emma was stunned. As soon as she said Killian's name, Regina broke out in ringing laughter.

"You mistreat him profoundly, and now you laugh at him?"

Regina's laugh cut off immediately. "That's rich! Killian Jones mistreated?"

"Yes, he is very poor, and I believe he suffers a great deal."

Regina scoffed. "On the contrary, Miss Swan. Mr. Jones is very fortunate. He has a remarkable ability to make all the right friends in all the right places."

"He's been so unfortunate as to lose your friendship."

"He has, and I gather that he told you it was through no fault of his own."

"Are you contradicting that claim?"

Regina stepped closer to speak softly in Emma's ear, "Killian Jones is a lying scoundrel, and you would do well to steer clear of him from now on."

"Why?" whispered Emma, but Regina merely looked at her with an unreadable expression. As far as Emma was concerned, if Regina had no reason for hating Killian, she had no reason to believe Regina. With one dismissive nod, Emma walked away, leaving a distraught Regina in her wake.

She didn't know where she was going. All Emma knew was she had to keep walking. She felt herself propelled forward by an incomprehensible mixture of anger and frustration. The people at the ball became blobs of color shooting by her peripheral vision; their voices became a persistent buzzing, and the music of the orchestra became the sound of her heart beating in her ears. Never had Emma felt so affected. She lost all notion of time. Had it been a minute since her altercation with Regina or an hour? The gallery seemed to be an endless maze where one could walk in circles infinitely.

"There you are!" shouted Ruby over the lurid banging of Emma's heart. "You will not believe what's happening!"

"Not now, Ruby," dismissed Emma without pausing her gait. "I'm really not in the mood for the latest gossip!"

"Are you in the mood to help your friend?" asked Ruby, clearly wounded by Emma's response. "Mary Margaret is currently crying in the women's bathroom like she has an endless supply of tears."

Emma stopped instantly. "What happened?"

"Careful David wasn't so careful," explained Ruby, crossing her arms. "He asked M to dance three times. Kathryn's not stupid. She figured out what was going on. She dragged David outside, and they've been arguing for half an hour! M has been sobbing ever since."

"Damn," muttered Emma. "Let's go get to her. And Ruby?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Forget about it."

* * *

"Go away!" sniffed Mary Margaret through the thick bathroom door.

"M?" asked Emma, careful to make her voice soft and reassuring despite her inner turmoil. "Do you want to go home?"

"It's all my fault!" blubbered Mary Margaret, a new wave of sobs instantly following her confession.

"It is not your fault!" Emma assured her. "It was David's decision to keep a secret from Kathryn, not yours"

"I've caused so much pain!" screeched her friend, completely ignoring what Emma said. "She must still have feelings for him, or she wouldn't be so angry."

Emma leaned her forehead against the door wishing for once her judgment hadn't been so spot on in Kathryn's case. "Oh M, you are too good. Please come out. I'll take you home and make you a nice cup of hot chocolate. It's up to David and Kathryn to work this one out. There's nothing you can do."

Emma and Ruby exchanged worried looks when all they heard were a few sniffles from the other side of the door. Then the sink started running, and to their relief, a red-eyed Mary Margaret finally emerged from the bathroom. They took her tenderly by each arm and began making their way to the exit.

"Where is Belle?" asked Mary Margaret, wiping a lingering tear from her eye. The three women stopped and looked around, but Belle was nowhere in sight. Admittedly, Belle was pretty low key and resistant to drama—a trait that apparently set her apart from the rest of her friends. Unfortunately, it also meant she was easily overlooked among all the chaos.

"We are terrible friends," muttered Ruby with a pout. "We totally forgot about her!"

"Wait!" said Mary Margaret, straining to see over a great distance. "I see her! She's over there!"

Ruby and Emma followed their friend's gaze, and recognized Belle's puffy golden gown on the other side of the room.

"What is she doing?" wondered Emma, squinting her eyes partly from trying to see and partly from confusion.

"Ew," Ruby gagged. "Is that….No way!"

But it was. Emma saw it too. Belle was sitting with, no fawning all over, Mr. Gold. He was speaking earnestly about something with his hands flying in a million different directions. She was listening intently, her head resting in her palm, her eyes never leaving his. Emma felt a fresh spell of nausea as she witnessed Belle gently lift her hand to brush her fingers over Gold's bruised face where Emma had left her mark.

"What is she doing?" asked Emma, shock and disgust straining her voice. Belle knew what Mr. Gold had said to her. She knew what a horrible person he was. Hell, she had been victim to several of his indiscretions. Yet, there she was, consoling him as if he were a poor wounded beast. "How could she?"

"Lets go get her," suggested Mary Margaret, looking worried.

"No. Leave her," said Emma, turning her back on the distant pair. "She's made her choice."

"Emma," admonished Mary Margaret, forgetting her own pain for a moment. "Don't be like that."

Emma made no reply as she pulled Mary Margaret toward the door. Ruby took one last look at Belle before reluctantly following. The clocktower struck twelve in the distance, but Emma had only one thought on her mind: escape.


	7. Fall Out

There are sites online, sites with the words "wisdom" or "proverb of the day" in the URL. They say things like "never go to bed angry" or "everything will be better in the morning." When Emma woke up the morning after the ball, the first thing she thought was that those sites were absolute rubbish and should be exterminated from the Internet—immediately. Her second thought was that she smelled blueberry pancakes, and her third was that she'd like nothing more than to go back to sleep where she didn't have to deal with her overly complicated life.

Everything was a mess. Belle was a traitor, Regina was evil (for lack of a better word), David was an idiot, and Mary Margaret…. Emma suddenly remembered bringing her friend home with her the previous night in tears. She sat up quickly and listened. She heard a distant banging in the kitchen followed by a larger crash and a high-pitched curse word, which was quickly followed by "Opps! I mean, oh darn!"

When Emma walked into the kitchen, she found Mary Margaret covered in flour and surrounded by a disarray of pots and pans and a wobbly stack of partially burned pancakes.

"Surprise!" shouted Mary Margaret, throwing her arms into the air. Emma had to suppress a giggle.

"Wow," said Emma, pausing to look around. "You've sure been busy."

"I woke up at five AM, and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"I see. Well, we'd better eat these pancakes before they spoil."

It seemed a reasonable thing to say, but right after Emma said it, Mary Margaret burst into tears.

"I spoiled everything!" she sobbed. Emma mentally berated herself for her choice of words.

"Mary Margaret, no. You didn't."

"I agreed to enter into a secret relationship with a man right under his ex-wife's nose!"

"Yes, it was his ex-wife not his wife. You and David had every right to date."

"Just stop. I did something wrong. I was dishonest to Kathryn Nolan, and I know you weren't in support of it when I did it. Nothing you say now will make it go away. You can't always protect me, Emma."

Emma pressed her lips together. Mary Margaret's final statement struck her like a rock to the temple. She watched her friend dry her tears in silent contemplation. She had trouble accepting that Mary Margaret could make a mistake. Emma had always been the one to screw up, to shirk responsibility and forget her manners, not Mary Margaret. Right? Or was she simply fighting to protect an image of her friend that didn't really exist?

"Hey," said Emma quietly after she finished clearing their plates. "Let's not go to work today. Let's just keep the store closed and go do something fun!"

"Emma," countered Mary Margaret from the floor. She was hunched over with a dustpan trying to clean up all the flour. "We can't just take off from work. It's Monday! Besides, don't you have painting lessons with August?"

Darn. Emma completely forgot. "Okay. Then we'll just take the morning off and go for a run!"

"Is this about me feeling better or you not wanting to talk to Belle?" asked Mary Margaret raising an eyebrow. Sometimes it was really annoying how well she knew Emma.

"Both?"

"Fine, but only if you agree to dust the entire store. It's been looking kind of fuzzy lately. Also, I need to stop by my apartment first."

Emma scowled at her friend before finally conceding. Twenty minutes later, they were climbing the steps of Mary Margaret's building.

"Where do you want to go? Central Park? Because I kind of feel like going to the High Line," said Emma from a few steps behind her friend.

"You can't run on the High Line. There are too many people," replied Mary Margaret.

"Yeah but…ouch!" Emma bumped right into Mary Margaret who had stopped short at the top of the stairs. "M? What the…"

David Nolan was standing in front of Mary Margaret's door. He looked wretched, and he still wore his tux from the previous night. How did he get past the doorman looking like that?

"I wasn't sure when you'd be back," he said quietly. "Can I talk to you?"

Mary Margaret hesitated. She looked from David to Emma.

"I'll wait for you downstairs," Emma whispered, giving her friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. True, she hadn't always liked David. In fact, only that morning she was willing to give him the same treatment she had given Mr. Gold. But Mary Margaret's words were still burning in the back of her head. You can't always protect me, Emma. Deep down, Emma knew she was right.

* * *

"You and David are back together?" asked Ruby a few hours later in the shop. "That was fast."

"We never officially broke up," reminded Mary Margaret, looking much better than she had that morning. "Kathryn was upset to be sure, but in the end, she and David had to accept the fact that they couldn't go on pretending forever. David went public with the divorce first thing this morning. No more secrets."

"That's great!" cheered Ruby before pausing thoughtfully. "Isn't it?"

"Well, there's likely to be a lot of press on the whole thing, especially since David and Kathryn managed to conceal such huge news for two whole years. I'm sure many of the local reporters are smacking themselves over their heads right now. But it'll die down eventually."

"What will you do until then?" asked Emma.

"See each other discreetly," replied Mary Margaret.

Emma gave her a look.

"It's NOT sneaking around," she explained. "We aren't hiding anything. It's only for the sake of privacy, and you know, out of respect for Kathryn."

Emma nodded her approval before turning back to her work. August would arrive any minute and the painting zone looked more like a war zone. Emma thanked her lucky stars that he was running behind schedule. About ten minutes later, Emma heard the bell at the door ring.

"You're late, mister," she called, turning around to greet her pupil, only it wasn't August standing by the door. It was Belle.

"Oh," said Emma, as a wave of awkward silence filled the room.

"I've come to tell you that I will be leaving the shop to work with Mr. Gold," Belle announced, not wasting any time to get to the point. She stood rigid, the light from outside outlining her small frame.

"Have fun," replied Emma, curtly before turning back to her work. Mary Margaret shot her a warning look.

"Belle, you don't have to go," Mary Margaret insisted, stepping out from where she stood behind the counter. "We don't blame you for anything. We're your family."

"Look," said Belle, backing away. "I know you guys don't like Mr. Gold. I'm not asking you to understand. But he needs someone. He is a very troubled man, and that makes him act out sometimes, but deep down he has a good heart. I've seen it…so I'm going to help him."

"But he's atrocious!" Emma insisted, accidentally snapping a plastic paintbrush in half.

"Don't judge me, Emma," warned Belle in a tone they had never heard her use before. "I respect that you don't feel comfortable around him. You have every right to those feelings, and I have every right to mine. I know he's not perfect, but I care about him. Can you respect that?"

Emma was speechless. She had known Belle for almost as long as she had worked at the Painted Heart. Yet right at that moment, Emma felt like she was a total stranger. How could her friend forgive Gold after the way he had treated her? How could Belle willingly place herself in his proximity in such a permanent way? Yet there she was, standing in the doorway, ready to walk out of it and leave her friends for him.

"I have to go now," said Belle, turning to Mary Margaret. "Mr. Gold is expecting me."

"Okay," replied Mary Margaret, sounding disappointed. She gave Belle a quick hug, "We wish you the best of luck, Belle. Truly."

"Yeah," Belle gave Emma a skeptical look before turning back to Mary Margaret. "I'll see you around."

* * *

"Right shame that is," said Killian Jones, holding the door open. Emma had just finished telling him about what happened with Belle nearly a week ago. She was still upset about the whole thing, so when she received a call from Killian the previous night asking her to go to a show at B.B. King's, she felt more than inclined to accept.

"I just don't know what she sees in him," replied Emma, shaking her head.

"Beats me, Love. The man is a lowlife crocodile. Oh, by the way, I reserved us a private booth."

"Oh, that's nice. Who's playing again?"

"Davy Jones, the musician not the pirate."

Emma laughed. The date went by pretty smoothly after that. Davy Jones played well, the food was good, and the conversation interesting even if it was a little one-sided. Killian had many stories to tell about his days in the Navy before he came to work for Cora Mills. Many of them were full of macho heroism and brotherly solidarity. Emma listened attentively, grateful to get her mind off her own troubles, but soon it was her turn to share.

"So what about you, Swan. I know you said you lost your friend, but any other news about the shop?"

"Not really," Emma began. "Well, I guess there is something. We're planning to host a children's craft event at the Storybrooke Art Gallery in a month. We're thinking along the lines of Alexander Calder, so we'd have the kids create cardboard mobile and stabile sculptures."

"Ah, so you're in with the Nolans then. That's interesting."

"Yeah, I guess so. It's kind of complicated."

"How so?"

"I don't think I should say."

Killian leaned in, his interest clearly piqued. "Does it involve some kind of scandal? Did you know the Nolans are friends with Regina Mills? They must be awful people."

"Well I don't know I'd go so far as to call them awful…" It hadn't been long since David and Mary Margaret's relationship came into the light, but from what she'd seen of David in the past week, Emma had to admit that he was actually a pretty decent guy. She still didn't know much about Kathryn, but she knew she must be a pretty tolerant woman to see her ex-husband and his new girlfriend on a near daily basis and not blow up.

"Oh. I mean, their okay. I've only met Kathryn once myself." Killian started rubbing the back of his neck before deciding to change the direction of the conversation. "So you must spend a lot of time with Regina then."

"I've bumped into her a few times."

"Has she…said anything about me?"

"No…" Emma was growing more confused the longer the conversation went on.

"Oh. It's not that I think she would. I just…I know she was really upset about what happened. How is she doing by the way?"

"She's okay, I guess."

"She doesn't talk to her mother. Mrs. Mills worries, ya know?"

"That's understandable." The waiter came to drop off the check, and Emma made to grab it.

"No no, Love," said Killian, slapping her hand away. "Gentleman's honors."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Davy Jones is dead. May he rest in peace. For the sake of the story, let's pretend he's still alive.


	8. Trapped at Sea

"Mary Margaret," whispered Emma so no one would hear. "You told me we were going on David's boat."

"We are on David's boat," replied her friend. "Okay, fine. I may have left out what kind of boat it was."

"Yeah," said Emma, looking around in awe. "Yeah, you might have forgot to mention that it was actually a mansion on water."

Every summer, the Nolans hosted a four-day cruise to their vacation home in Maine, and they weren't about to let the buzz over their divorce stop them this year. David invited all the girls from the Painted Heart to attend, but it seemed that Emma and Mary Margaret were the only two there. Ruby's grandmother made her stay in New York to help her with something, but she wouldn't say what. No one had heard from Belle in weeks.

"Don't you think it's a little awkward to hang out with David and his ex-wife now that she knows about you two?" asked Emma, watching Kathryn glide around the deck like a model hostess.

"It was at first," admitted Mary Margaret, sipping a glass of wine. "Especially because I kept apologizing every few minutes. But after a while, I think she got used the idea. We're almost back to the way we were before."

"There are my girls," greeted David happily. He came over dressed in all white and wore a goofy sailor hat cocked to one side. He did a quick spin for Mary Margaret, who clapped her approval. Emma merely rolled her eyes.

"Have you two tried the shrimp?" he asked. "It's delicious."

"No, we haven't," answered Mary Margaret, smiling brightly. "But the wine is very good."

"Good," said David, giving Mary Margaret a lingering look before remembering himself. "Emma, I hate to ask, but would you mind if I steal Mary Margaret away for a little while? I want her to meet my brother."

"Sure," replied Emma, secretly wondering what she was going to do without her friend in this mob of rich people. "I'll just go find those shrimp…"

Emma wandered around for a little while, trying not to attract too much attention to herself. She felt awkward about sitting alone anywhere too crowded, so she finally decided to hang out by the nose of the boat, or rather yacht, where she would be relatively isolated.

Emma got a few moments peace before an all too familiar voice started carrying on the wind.

"I told you to get me the designs by this morning, Sydney. This boat pulls out in less than an hour, and I still don't have them. This is simply unacceptable!" Ranted Regina Mills into her phone. She had just walked around the corner toward the front of the boat, and didn't notice Emma standing a few feet in front of her. "Do you think I get good cell service at sea?"

This so called Sydney must have bombarded Regina with a list of excuses, because she shook her head dramatically before responding, "I don't care what it takes. Get those designs to me within the hour or you're fired!" She hung up the phone and sighed.

"Damn. A little harsh, don't you think?" asked Emma, causing the other woman to jump with surprise.

"Miss Swan," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you I imagine," quipped Emma, but the reference was lost on Regina, so she cupped her hands to whisper loudly, "Getting away from everybody else."

"No, I mean on this yacht."

"David invited me. Is that so surprising?"

"No, that makes sense. He couldn't invite Mary Margaret if he didn't invite you too."

"Gee thanks. Nice to know you think my company is just a necessary evil."

"Why do you take offence so easily, Miss Swan?"

"Maybe because you offend so easily, Ms. Mills."

Emma waited for a reply, but Regina offered none. She simply stared at Emma with a dark look in her eyes. Feeling suddenly awkward, Emma made to leave, but she slipped in a wet spot and fell backward onto her tailbone.

"OW!" she cried, rubbing her rear before lying down on the deck and closing her eyes. Maybe if she just stayed there long enough, Regina would go away.

"Need any help?" came the silky voice from right overhead. Emma opened one eye to find Regina crouching down beside her.

"No. I'm fine."

"Don't be silly, Miss Swan." Regina wrapped a hand around Emma's wrist, startling her with the sudden contact. They stood up together and had almost reached full height when Emma slipped again. Regina caught her around the waist this time, causing Emma to be pulled flush against her warm body. Emma froze, allowing her gaze to linger on Regina's chocolate brown eyes, which were wide with surprise. The two women stepped away from each other abruptly, hardening their expressions and awkwardly adjusting their clothes.

Emma cleared her throat. "Thanks," she croaked, avoiding eye contact. The exotic scent of Regina's perfume still lingered in the space between them.

"No problem," replied Regina, as she smoothed a hand over her diaphragm.

Emma made a quick escape. Suddenly, David's mansion on water wasn't quite mansion-y enough. How was she supposed to avoid Regina for four days? Emma slipped into the women's lavatory to hide in one of the stalls.

"What the hell was that?" she muttered under her breath.

"Emma?" asked the woman from the stall next to hers. Emma suddenly realized that the Nolan's boat was about to become even smaller.

"Belle?" she asked hesitantly. "Is that you?"

Coming out of their stalls at the same time, they both looked at each other unsure of what to say. Emma still hadn't seen or heard from Belle since the day she announced she was leaving. While the woman didn't say much when she was there, Emma was surprised how silent the shop seemed without the sound of pages turning and Belle's random laughter when she read something funny. It was undeniable: Emma missed her friend. Screw it, she thought.

"I'm so sorry!" blurted Emma, wrapping Belle in a tight hug.

Belle hesitated before returning her hug and saying, "I'm sorry too."

"I was so wrapped up in my own problems, I didn't even take the time to consider your feelings!" cried Emma, still holding her friend close.

"I didn't even have the guts to share them!" admitted Belle through tendrils of Emma's thick blonde hair.

"Share them now! Can we catch up?" asked Emma, who by now had grown teary-eyed.

"Sure," agreed Belle, breaking their hug. "But let's go somewhere else, shall we?"

"Right," said Emma, looking around and realizing they were still in the bathroom. They both giggled.

* * *

 

"When did it start?" asked Emma, sitting with Belle in a cushioned bench outside.

"Well, I've always noticed Mr. Gold," admitted Belle. "At first, I thought he was cruel, but after a while, I started to realize that a lot of it was just an act. It was like he was mean on purpose to keep people away. The day he had that big fight with you, I ran into him when he was walking back to his shop. He looked pretty bad, so I offered to help him. That was the first time I'd ever seen him with his defenses down. Then I knew I was right. He was a man in pain, and I felt I could help him."

"Are you happy?" inquired Emma gently.

"I'm not unhappy."

"What's that mean?"

"It's complicated," Belle sighed. "Most of the time Gold yells at clients or brags about some asset or another. I won't deny that he can be difficult to be around. But sometimes…sometimes he can be so tender and vulnerable." A small smile played across Belle's lips.

Emma noticed the look on her friends face. Taking Belle's hand, she asked, "Do you love him?"

Belle thought for a moment. "Yes," she confessed. "I think I do. I know that sounds crazy. It's barely been a month! But he's really opened up to me. Did you know his son ran away from home as a teenager? They got into a huge fight one night, and Gold hasn't seen or heard from him in over ten years. He blames himself for the whole thing. He thinks he's some kind of monster, but I know he's not."

Emma squeezed Belle's hand reassuringly. Even with this explanation, she didn't understand Belle's attraction to Gold, and she never would. She also knew that she could never look at Belle the same after what had happened. Nonetheless, Emma knew Belle's heart was good, and she owed it to her as a friend to be accepting. "If he can inspire your love, then he can't be a monster."

Belle smiled. "Thank you for understanding! I want nothing more than for us all to be friends again!"

Belle and Emma hugged a second time but broke apart when they heard clapping nearby. They turned to see Mary Margaret and David standing audience to their reunion.

"Yay!" cheered Mary Margaret happily.

"Your plan worked," said David nudging Mary Margaret in the arm and winking.

"Plan?" asked Emma, confused. "What plan? You planned this?"

"Well not this exactly," admitted Mary Margaret. "I was just in charge of making sure you came on the trip, and David was in charge of getting Belle to come. We knew the rest would work itself out."

"You sly little tricksters!" said Emma, standing up and giving them each a light punch to the arm. She tried to look angry, but she was smiling the whole time.

"Excuse me," scoffed Mary Margaret, placing a hand to her throat. "We prefer the term evil geniuses."

"Yes," agreed David. "There's no better way to get two people in a tussle to make up than to stick them on a boat together. Nowhere to run away."

* * *

"She's everywhere!" complained Emma, dealing a deck of cards for a game of war.

"It's a boat, Emma," Mary Margaret reminded her. "There aren't many places for Regina to go."

"No, it's more than that. It's like she's everywhere I am…glaring." Emma knew that avoiding Regina Mills on the Nolan's yacht would be impossible, but it seemed that since they set sail a full 24 hours ago, Emma had run into Regina at least once every hour except when she was safe in her own cabin. It was as if Regina were purposely placing herself in Emma's path.

"I think you're imagining things," said Mary Margaret, laying a jack of spades on the table and taking Emma's six of diamonds.

"Am I? Look! There she is now!" Emma hissed. Regina was standing on the other side of the room talking to a pretty blonde woman. Despite her apparent interest in the conversation, her eyes kept finding their way to Emma.

"She does seem to look at you a great deal," observed Mary Margaret turning back to her friend.

"HA! See?" said Emma. "She's trying to intimidate me."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! What else could she mean by going around looking at me like I'm a bug to be squished." Both Mary Margaret and Emma laid queens on the table and quickly put down their cards for war.

"Emma, have you ever thought…" Mary Margaret hesitated, and looked back at Regina.

"What?"

"It's just I don't really think she's necessarily glaring at you."

"Oh really? What? Do I have something on my face then?"

"No."

"A third eye maybe?"

"No," Mary Margaret continued to hesitate, it was clear she was trying not to say something.

"Just say it."

"Have you ever thought that Regina might be…attracted to you?"

That was NOT the something Emma thought Mary Margaret was going to say. She felt her cheeks flush, and she was sure her teeth would crack from the pressure of her jaw.

"Wha—NO! No! Absolutely not! She hates me! I hate her. We hate each other. No. She definitely isn't attrac—No." Emma made a point of visibly shivering.

"Okay, just asking." Mary Margaret won the war with her ace of hearts.

"This game can go on forever you know," observed Emma, watching Mary Margaret collect her winnings.

"Then should we go see what David is up to? You still haven't met his brother James. They're twins you know."

"Actually I didn't know, which is why when I did meet James earlier today, I totally thought he was David. You should have seen the way he looked at me when I asked, how's the evil genius this morning? He definitely thinks I'm a crazy person."

Mary Margaret enjoyed a long laugh at Emma's expense.

"Laugh it up, Lady," warned Emma. "But I'm about to win all your cards."

"How so?" asked Mary Margaret, still laughing.

"Like this!" Emma grabbed Mary Margaret's cards straight out of her hands and made a run for it. Their game attracted the attention of several people in the room, including the blonde woman standing with Regina, who turned out to be Elsa.

"Emma?" asked Elsa. "Oh my god! Hi!"

"Elsa!" Emma stopped abruptly causing Mary Margaret to collide with her arm. "I didn't know you were on this trip. Have you been here the whole time?"

"No. I was actually at my little sister's wedding yesterday, so I arrived very early this morning on the helicopter pad." explained Elsa.

"Oh…You have a helicopter?" asked Emma surprised.

"No!" laughed Elsa. "Kathryn sent it for me. She's so kind."

"Of course," retorted Emma. "Well, tell your sister congratulations!"

"Thank you!" said Elsa who now noticed Mary Margaret and looked at Emma questioningly.

"Oh! This is Mary Margaret, she owns the Painted Heart. Mary Margaret, this is Elsa. She's the artist I was telling you about. The one who makes the beautiful glass sculptures."

"Oh!" gasped Mary Margaret. "She was going on and on about you! You must have really impressed her."

"Thank you so much. That means a lot to me," said Elsa to a blushing Emma, an exchange that triggered Regina to enter the conversation.

"Yes, Elsa is a very talented artist," began Regina, stepping forward, "But aren't you supposed to be one too, Miss Swan? We've yet to see any of your work."

"Oh, Emma! You told me you would show me some!" Elsa reminded Emma, smilingly.

"Well, it's kind of hard to show you now," replied Emma, motioning around as if she needed to remind them that they were on a boat.

"Nonsense," exclaimed Regina. "This boat belongs to the owners of the Storybrooke Art Gallery. Do you think they don't keep pre-prepared canvases and supplies below deck for just such occasions as this."

"Occasions such as what?" asked Emma, trying but failing to keep the fear from her eyes.

"You're going to paint for us!" exclaimed Elsa, catching onto Regina's plan. "Please, Emma! Will you?"

Emma could hear her heart beating in her ears. Should she? The past few months had been so hectic. To be truthful, Emma had barely picked up a paintbrush in several weeks except to guide her students' hands. Did she really want her return to the canvas to be so…public? "I don't know…"

Emma felt Mary Margaret grab her upper arm. "You can do it," she whispered in her ear. "You deserve to be recognized for your work."

Emma looked at her friend hard, bracing herself to make a decision. Mary Margaret smiled at her encouragingly. "Okay," She conceded. "But I specialize in portraits so I would need someone to sit for me."

"Paint Regina!" suggested Elsa, earning herself a glare from the woman in question. "Well it was your idea after all. Besides, I'm the fellow artist here. I want to watch Emma work."

Emma could not believe she was actually about to paint in front of people, and she really could not believe she was about to paint Regina Mills. Even as she watched two crew members setting up an easel in one of the smaller sitting rooms, she remained convinced she was having some kind of nightmare. But no, it was really happening. That became clear when Regina stood in front of her, hands on hips, and said, "How do you want me?"

"What?" gasped Emma, her cheeks feeling flushed. David had made sure they had the room to themselves so the only people there besides Emma and Regina were Elsa and Mary Margaret. Emma found the sudden intimacy somewhat unnerving.

"To pose, Miss Swan," explained Regina impatiently. "How do you want me to pose?"

"Oh! Uhh…How about on the couch?"

Regina walked over to the brown leather couch and sat elegantly with her legs crossed.

"Hold on a second, I brought something," said Elsa rushing toward Regina. She handed her an apple, earning herself three confused stares. "Her company is called Big Apple Architects. I thought maybe if Regina likes the painting, she could be Emma's first patron. She could hang it in her building."

"I don't think I want a painting of myself on the wall," replied Regina, but she held up the apple anyway.

"Your company?" asked Mary Margaret. "Are you the CEO?"

"Yes, I founded the company," explained Regina sounding bored. "What is it, Elsa?"

Elsa had started giggling from her seat behind Emma. "I'm sorry, Regina," she said. "It's just…Emma's painting you, and you're on a couch…on a boat. It's like that scene from The Titanic."

"Except I'm not naked," replied Regina just before Emma knocked over a container of paintbrushes. "Are you quite well, Miss Swan?"

"I'm fine," coughed Emma, scooping up the brushes as quickly as she could and returning to an upright position. "Shall we begin?"

"Lets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking: finally some Swan Queen action! I know I know! It's coming, I promise!


	9. Maine and the Moon

Emma hesitated. She straightened her canvas. She hesitated again. She organized her paints. She hesitated…Stop it, Emma! Oh no. She was looking right at her. Regina Mills. Those dark fiery eyes were looking at Emma…into Emma. How much time had passed? Emma wasn't sure. Hmmm…how does one paint the great Regina Mills? Emma didn't even know where to begin.

"Any day now, Miss Swan," came that sultry voice pressing the reset button on Emma's thoughts. There were those eyes again. There was so much depth to that stare, she was sure she would drown. Emma's cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink. This was not lost on Regina. Something unrecognizable flickered in the depths of those chocolate brown eyes.

Focus, Emma. Emma forced herself to break eye contact with Regina. She tried to focus on the woman as a whole. In the entire time she'd known Regina, Emma had never looked at her this long before. Regina sat stiffly with her legs crossed. She wore an expertly fitted gray dress with a sharp neck line that dipped low enough to be sexy and stopped just short of obscenity. Her hair was coifed to perfection except for one little piece that hung in front of her face. Emma felt the urge to brush that piece away. What?! No! This was Regina Mills. She was arrogant and cruel. She was…infuriating. She was without comparison. Suddenly Emma felt Regina's professional-yet-sexy attire didn't do her justice. No…Regina needed more drama than that.

A few hours later, Emma was finished. She put the final touch of red on Regina's painted mouth and turned to Elsa for feedback.

"Wow," exclaimed her critic, visually absorbing Emma's work. "It's incredible. What made you paint her like that?"

Emma had given Regina a flowing red gown with black lace embellishments, a black tiara, and dark dramatic eyes. She also exchanged the mundane leather couch for a crescent moon wrapped in intimidating brambles and gave the apple in Regina's hand an exaggerated incandescent glow. The Regina in the painting looked dark and mysterious, but also incredibly menacing. However, recalling the thought process that led her to paint Regina so dramatically brought a fresh blush to Emma's cheeks. "Oh it was simple really. Regina means queen in Latin," she said.

"Oh!" replied Elsa, accepting Emma's flimsy explanation. "How clever. This is so creative!"

"I think I'll be the judge of that," came Regina's voice from the couch. She had just finished stretching after having held still for so long. She walked slowly towards the painting eyeing Emma the way one would a court defendant awaiting the jury. Emma forgot to breathe.

Regina looked at the painting for thirty long seconds. Her expression was at first unreadable, but then a glimmer of emotion flashed across her eyes. Almost as soon as it happened, it disappeared and was replaced by a cold hard stare. "You've made me look like a drag queen, Miss Swan," was all she said before gliding out of the room.

"What's her problem?" asked Emma, still staring at the door.

"She's a difficult woman to get close to," explained Elsa sadly. "But, Emma, this painting really is amazing. You simply have to show David and Kathryn!"

"I'm going to get David now," announced Mary Margaret, popping up from her chair. "And there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

* * *

"They want you to do more?" asked Belle later that day. The coast of Maine was in sight so everyone had come out on the deck to watch the arrival.

"Yes," replied Emma. "They want me to paint another one"

David and Kathryn were very impressed by Emma's portrait of Regina. However, Kathryn felt the portrait would be better as a diptych. She claimed the painting didn't fully capture all that Regina was. Emma had given them Regina with the moon, now Kathryn wanted Regina with the sun as a counterpart.

"Just one problem," continued Emma, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. "Regina will never agree to it. She hated the painting when she saw it."

"That's crazy!" replied Belle, her blue eyes narrowing. "That painting is gorgeous. She should be flattered."

"She was the opposite of flattered."

"So what will you do?"

"No idea. Try to talk Kathryn out of it?"

"Can't she talk Regina into it? They are best friends aren't they?"

"Maybe. But even if she did, I'm not sure I want to paint Regina again." Just thinking about it made Emma's skin hum.

"Well, maybe you can talk Kathryn out of it then."

Emma sighed and sat with her friend in comfortable silence as they watched the yacht come smoothly into a small harbor and then into the Nolan's private yacht berth. How rich were these people?

"Where are we?" Emma asked, but her question soon proved unnecessary.

"Everyone!" announced David loudly, standing up on a chest, which likely housed life jackets. "Welcome to Storybrooke, Maine: the land of my birth and the namesake of the Storybrooke Art Gallery!"

An unusually sophisticated applause followed David's announcement before the guests started filing from the boat to the street where a line of shiny black sedans awaited them. Emma and Belle waited on the sidewalk for Mary Margaret to come out with David.

"Home sweet home!" exclaimed David excitedly, pulling open the door to one of the sedans and letting the ladies into the car. They rode in awkward silence for a while.

"So how do property rights work for you and Kathryn now that you're…you know?" asked Emma. She tried not to ask it. She knew it was impolite. But Emma had been wondering about this ever since she found out that David and Kathryn were divorced.

David laughed good-naturedly before answering. "We are partners in the art gallery so we share that. The house here is mine. It goes back in my family for generations. I had to flip a coin for it with my brother, but don't worry, he was more than compensated for it. Kathryn owns the yacht. We've just been sharing things for looks."

"And now that you've come out?" asked Emma, avoiding Mary Margaret's glare.

"We'll stop pretending if that's what you mean," began David, giving Mary Margaret a smile. "However, we do share the same social circle, and we've been coexisting for so long, we see no reason to stop doing things like this." David gestured to the line of sedans in front of and behind them. "That is unless Mary Margaret wants me to stop?"

David looked at Mary Margaret with soft puppy dog eyes. "Of course not," she replied, taking his hand.

"Look!" said David, glancing out the window. "We're here!"

The line of sedans had entered a long gravel driveway lined with apple trees on both sides. In the distance, Emma could see a large brick house surrounded by an impressive iron fence.

"Regina gave these apple trees to us," David explained. "Kathryn wanted pear trees like they have at Kensington Palace, but Regina has a mind of her own." Emma couldn't disagree.

The car stopped, and they got out. The air was so fresh and clean. It was completely the opposite of the gritty New York air Emma was used to: no weird food smells, no burning rubber, no partially decaying rubbish on the side of the road. Emma took a deep breath in.

"Welcome to Ruth's Farm," said David, looking proudly at the house and the grounds. "Home of the Nolans for one hundred years."

"This is a farm?" asked Emma, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Well, we may have expanded it over the years," David admitted before taking lead of the group to enter the large main house.

Emma was amazed. The whole house had beautiful hardwood floors, antique rugs, smooth white walls with intricate crown molding, and there was art absolutely everywhere. Emma wanted to stop and take it all in, but David kept the party moving. Mary Margaret had to pull Emma along by the arm whispering in her ear, "Later."

David gave them a cursory tour of the entire house-or more accurately stated, mansion-before assigning everyone to one of the many guest rooms. Emma was relieved to be able to share a room with both Belle and Mary Margaret. The last thing she wanted was to spend two nights sharing a room with a stranger…or worse…Emma didn't let her mind go there.

"Coming to dinner, Emma?" asked Mary Margaret, coming out of the bathroom. Her freshly cleaned hair smelled like lavender, and she wore one of her best dresses. Emma lay sprawled across the super king-sized bed still covered in salt from the sea air. She considered her friends offer. It involved sitting at a long table with twenty-odd rich people one of whom was Regina Mills.

"No, I think I'll just go to sleep," she answered.

"Suit yourself." Belle and Mary Margaret left Emma in blissful solitude. When she was sure she was alone, Emma jumped into the shower to clear her head. She remembered when her life used to make sense. When she was just a girl pretending not to have a sketchy past and working in an arts and crafts shop where the only people she had to understand were either her friends or four-foot-two and missing their front teeth.

Regina Mills was none of those things. Emma heard so many conflicting accounts of the woman over the past several months that she was positively bewildered. If her own experience was anything to go by, Regina was pompous and mean. In short, she was everything Emma couldn't stand. Yet, this morning…Emma tried not the think about the events of that morning. She tried not to think about Regina's penetrating stare, the way her clothes hugged all her curves, that rough husky voice…

Nope! Emma turned the shower to cold before stepping out. This was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

The next day, most of the party slept in. Emma, having gone to bed early, was wide-awake around eight AM. With no other options, Emma decided to go for a run. She threw on a sports bra and some running shorts before tiptoeing out of the house.

Despite the grandeur of Ruth's Farm, the town of Storybrooke was surprisingly small and rustic. There weren't many people out except those populating a small diner along the main street. Emma decided to run along the beach until she found a small wooden playground shaped like a castle. It looked like a good place to take a break.

Sitting in the castle, looking out onto the water, Emma noticed a small clumsy-looking "HM" carved into one of the wooden planks. She traced the letters with her finger and wondered whom the child was who left it there.

Ding! The clock tower in the center of town struck 11, and Emma realized people would be waking up by now. She quickly climbed down from the castle and began the long jog back. By the time she reached Ruth's Farm, it must have been nearly noon. The sun was high in the sky emitting a dry oppressive heat so that Emma was glistening with sweat as she bounded up the lawn. If she hurried, she could take a quick shower before lunch.

"Two more days, dear," came a woman's voice from behind one of the evergreens. Emma paused. The voice was gentle and kind. It sounded familiar, but Emma couldn't recall where she'd heard it before.

"I know," continued the woman, consolingly. "But when I get back we can spend the whole day together I promise—just you and me. I love you! Bye, Sweetie." There was a click.

Realizing the woman had hung up and not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Emma tried to slip past. Unfortunately, she did so just as Regina Mills came out from behind the tree she had been leaning on.

"Miss Swan!" she gasped in surprise, her voice still light from her previous conversation before dropping back to its usual more cutting tone. "Why do you always show up at the least opportune moments?"

"I'm sorry," said Emma, wiping away a stray bit of hair that was stuck to her forehead. "Please tell me at which times of the day my existence would be most convenient to you."

"Sarcasm again," replied Regina. "Silly me for expecting a straight answer out of you."

"Yeah well I'm not exactly a straight thinking sort of girl," countered Emma, before realizing what she was saying. A new burst of heat erupted over her already glowing cheeks, as Regina's mouth parted in surprise. It was then that both women realized Emma was only wearing a sports bra.

"I should go get cleaned up," said Emma, feeling self-conscious. She slipped away without another word and didn't dare look back until she was safe in her room.

"Where were you?" asked Mary Margaret, lying on top of the covers with a book. "You missed breakfast, and you almost missed lunch. We're having a clambake in like half an hour!"

"I went for a run," Emma explained. "I had to burn off some energy. Now I have to shower."

"Okay, but hurry," warned Mary Margaret. "You weren't at dinner last night or breakfast this morning, David is starting to think you're miserable or something."

"I'm not! Tell him I'm having a great time!" replied Emma, feeling guilty. "I'll be ten minutes tops, I promise."

* * *

After her disappearing act, Emma was careful to go through all the motions of a happy and grateful guest at the clambake lunch. Emma was grateful for the casual nature of the meal because it meant everyone broke off into little groups, so she could stay with Belle, Mary Margaret and occasionally Elsa, while being as far away from Regina as possible. Emma didn't understand it, but that woman brought out the worst in her.

After lunch, Emma got roped into a game of volleyball with David and some guys, and the rest of the afternoon past with relative ease. Emma began to think she just might make it through the weekend in one piece, but that was before dinner.

The Nolans were the type of people who expected everyone to change into more formal attire for dinner and sit at their long mahogany table with starched napkins in their laps. Emma, who had a pathetic supply of formal attire, struggled to find something in her luggage she hadn't already worn. Belle and Mary Margaret headed down to dinner before her, promising to save her a seat. However, by the time Emma came into the dining room, the only seat left was the one right next to the single person she had been so carefully trying to avoid. It took everything Emma had to conceal her distaste as she sat down beside Regina Mills.

As soon as Emma was seated, Regina angled her self away from her and proceeded to ignore Emma the entire length of the meal. Even worse, as the bread plate was being past around the table, Regina deliberately skipped Emma, handing the plate to James Whale at Emma's other side. Not wanting to cause a scene, Emma sat through all of dinner in silent but simmering anger. She was very thankful when the meal finally ended, and she was again free to roam wherever she wanted.

Emma made a point of standing up before Regina could and strutting out of the dining room. She travelled down a long thickly carpeted hallway before finding a dark and deserted library where she could disappear for a while. Turning on a lamp, Emma directed her attention to the shelves, astounded to see several first additions of some fairly famous novels.

She had just started to calm down when she heard a cough at the door. Regina Mills had followed her.

"What?" asked Emma, annoyed. "Now I can exist? What is it with you?"

"What is it with me?" bounced back Regina, stepping into the room. Her eyes were dark and dangerous, and Emma had never seen her look so angry. "What is it with you? You're rude and prejudiced and sarcastic. I bet you think you're so much better than everyone else!"

With each step Regina took toward Emma, Emma took one away from Regina, but soon she felt her back hit the bookcase, leaving her with nowhere to go.

"And what was up with that painting?" continued Regina, her rant picking up pace, "It was completely unfair! Is that really how you see me? God, how you infuriate me! I want nothing to do with you, but you're always here, always worming your way back into my life and my thoughts, and I can't take it anymore, Emma!"

"Wha.." began Emma but she was cut off when Regina's mouth collided with hers in a furious but desperate kiss. Emma lost all control. Her brain tried to tell her body to push Regina away, but the signal must have gotten lost in transit. Instead, she let Regina assault her mouth as she pressed herself so hard against Emma's body, Emma could feel the bookshelves digging painfully into her back. She even let Regina grab her hands and place them around her waist. It wasn't until Regina's thigh pressed aggressively against Emma's groin that she got back her senses.

"What are you doing?" gasped Emma, breaking the kiss, but remaining pressed between Regina and the bookcase. God, she smelled good.

"Same as you I imagine," quipped Regina, now pressing hot kisses along Emma's neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Emma almost accepted that response, she wanted to, but she just couldn't.

"No!" she yelled, and it took every ounce of will power to push Regina away. "I am not doing this!"

"Why not?" asked Regina, and for a second, she actually looked hurt, but only for a second.

"Because you're a terrible person! I think I'm so much better than everyone else? Please! You're the most pompous arrogant asshole I've ever met. And seriously? Do you really think insulting me is a way to get into my pants? And yeah, that painting is exactly how I see you! You're a villain, Regina. You think only of yourself, and you don't care who you hurt to get what you want!"

"How dare you say that to me! You barely even know me!" bellowed Regina, trying to sound angry, but her voice was beginning to shake.

"I don't want to know you! I heard what you did to Killian Jones. You destroyed his life, and yet you act like you've done nothing wrong! What kind of evil person does that? I decided long ago that you were the last person in the world I would ever want to be with!"

Regina just gaped at Emma for a few moments, her face a confusing mixture of emotions. "So this is what you think of me?" she said gently. "Thank you, Miss Swan…for your candor." And like a puff of smoke, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Sorry! 
> 
> I'll update soon!


	10. Mirror Mirror

_Regina just gaped at Emma for a few moments, her face a confusing mixture of emotions. "So this is what you think of me?" she said gently. "Thank you, Miss Swan…for your candor." And like a puff of smoke, she was gone._

Emma followed Regina’s path toward the door and close it before sinking into a heap on the floor. She closed her eyes and listened to all the voices echoing throughout the house. Gradually the voices decreased in number until there were only a few quiet ones from stubborn night owls drawing energy from the moon.

 

Emma couldn’t see the moon from the library. She turned off the lamp and sat in total darkness. When there was nothing but persistent silence, Emma stood up and walked robotically to her room.

 

Mary Margaret and Belle were fast asleep when she came in. She removed her shoes and stepped carefully so as not to disturb them. Suddenly, her bare foot collided with paper where it should have been hardwood floor. Emma knelt down to feel for the object, finding a folded sheet that had apparently been slipped under the door.

 

Emma strained her eyes to see that the sheet was covered in tight sprawled handwriting. Unable to resist her curiosity, she slipped into the bathroom to turn on the light. The note was from Regina.

 

_Dear Miss Swan,_

_Before I begin, I’d like to make clear that this note is by no means an attempt to renew the advances you earlier found so…detestable. I have no wish to cause you further discomfort. However, I do feel that I need to address the serious offence you laid against me: that which places me in the blame for ruining the life of one Killian Jones._

_I do not know what falsehoods Killian has told you, so I will give you a full account of all my dealings with him. Killian Jones and I were childhood friends. His father worked for my father as the manager of the Enchanted Forest Hotel in New York. My father was a very kind man, and he cared very deeply for Mr. Jones and his son. In fact, he paid for Killian to attend the same private school as me, so you can imagine how close our families were. However, as we got older, Killian became reckless and developed some self-destructive behavior. He was expelled from school for destroying the principle’s office with some criminal friends he’d made. When his father died, my father promised to take care of Killian, and I tried to help him too, but I think by that point he was beyond our help. My father died when I was sixteen and left Killian a large sum of money, which he gambled away in less than a year. Even so, Killian and I remained close._

_When I was seventeen, I fell in love with Daniel. Daniel worked as a coachman in central park taking tourists around in horse drawn carriages. However, my mother had all kinds of ambitions about my future. She wanted me to someday marry a lawyer or a politician, and I knew she would never allow me to keep seeing Daniel if she found out. I kept our relationship a secret from everyone except Killian, who I thought was my friend. Little did I know Killian had grown bitter and jealous over the years. He ran right to my mother and told her about Daniel. She had me sent away to boarding school in England as a result. I found out that Daniel died in a car accident a year later. I never got to see him again._

_I cannot tell you the deep feeling of loss that I experienced from Daniel’s death, nor can I convey the betrayal I felt by both Killian and my mother. I have not spoken to either of them since the event. I used the trust fund my father left me to pay for college and graduate school, and I founded Big Apple Architects when I was 23. I am ambitious, but I assure you I have never stepped on others to accomplish any of my goals._

_In addition to my apparent destruction of Killian Jones, you also accused me of being a “pompous arrogant asshole.” If my behavior towards you has offended you, I am sorry. I have not had a relationship since Daniel. I felt a connection to you early on, and to be truthful, I was afraid. I was trying to deny my feelings by pushing you away. Obviously, that worked out better than I wanted it too._

_I wish you luck, Miss Swan-- in life and in your art. I may not have liked your painting of me, but I do not deny your talent._

_Sincerely,_

_Regina Mills_

Emma reread the letter two more times, looking for some inconsistency or some sign that she had been right all along. She could find none. There were enough parallels between Regina’s story and Killian’s to suggest it was rooted in truth, and Emma didn’t think even Regina was cruel enough to lie about something as tragic as Daniel’s death. The only conclusion to make was that Emma had grossly misjudged Regina Mills, and had played the fool to Killian Jones’s lies. She squeezed the letter in her fist and broke down in tears. How could she have been so stupid? 

* * *

In less than one weekend, Emma Swan had become a social fugitive. There was no way she could handle staying at the Nolan’s vacation home for even one more day. That’s why the very next morning, Emma made a thousand and one apologies to David, Kathryn, Belle, Elsa, and Mary Margaret before hoping in a taxi to the train station. She spent the remainder of Sunday and all of Monday hiding in her apartment and doing a lot of self-reflection.

 

If anything good had come of the situation, it would be that the time Emma spent in hiding was one of the most prolific she had in terms of her paintings. She finished three works that had been collecting dust in the corner of her room for months and began a new piece. It was a self-portrait.

 

On Tuesday, Emma tried to call in sick for work, but Mary Margaret wouldn’t hear of it. She came bursting into Emma’s apartment (Emma’s doorman had a thing for Mary Margaret) and found Emma covered in two days’ worth of paint, scratching frantically at her canvas.

 

“Emma!” gasped Mary Margaret, looking very worried. “Please tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t” resisted Emma, swallowing a sob. She didn’t even look at her friend. She was far too embarrassed. She just kept painting.

 

Mary Margaret walked around to see what Emma was doing and gaped at the painting. “Oh my god, Emma. What does it mean?”

 

Emma finally stopped. “It means I’m…separate.” Emma broke down and cried.

 

Mary Margaret comforted Emma and waited patiently for her to regain her composure. Wiping away a lingering tear from Emma’s cheek, she asked, “What do you mean you’re separate?”

 

“You know about my time in the foster system,” Emma began, and Mary Margaret nodded solemnly. “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately…and I think I’ve been using it as an excuse to always see the worst in people.” Emma looked at her painting in which she wore thick metal armor. “I was hurt so much growing up that now it’s like I’m wearing armor to protect myself from getting hurt again, but it also hinders me from actually feeling anything. That’s what the painting means.” 

 

“What brought this about? Was it something that happened in Maine? Is that why you left early?” Mary Margaret stroked Emma’s hair consolingly.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” answered Emma, closing back up. She knew if she told Mary Margaret what had happened with Regina, her friend would give her some lecture about not being overly judgmental, and Emma didn’t think she could handle that.

 

“Emma…”

 

“Just please?”

 

Mary Margaret looked at Emma and sighed. “Okay. Why don’t you take today to recover? But, Emma, I’m here if you need me. Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

 

Emma went back to work on her painting and heard Mary Margaret close the door behind her. One more day: that was all Emma needed.

* * *

Emma woke up the next morning feeling much better. She had made a mistake. She knew that. But she was determined to make a learning experience of it.

 

It was Wednesday, which meant it was Emma’s turn to get coffee for everyone at the shop. She headed down to Granny’s diner where she usually went, but was shocked to find the place closed. Emma couldn’t believe it. In all the years she had worked just down the block, Granny’s had been open every day, even holidays. Feeling confused, Emma walked another street over to the next closest bakery before showing up for work.

 

“She lives!” called Ruby, who was reading a magazine at one of the arts and crafts tables. “We were worried about you yesterday.”

 

“I’m fine,” replied Emma, putting down the coffees and a box of donuts on the table. “What’s up with Granny’s diner? Is your grandmother okay?”

 

“Well I guess that would depend on your definition of okay,” began Ruby, standing up to retrieve her cup. “She’s been acting very strange lately. Going on and on about _that wretched woman_ … And get this: she’s selling her diner!”

 

“What?” gasped Emma, as her jaw dropped.

 

“Yeah,” continued Ruby, nodding her head. “That’s why I couldn’t come on the trip with you guys. She made me stay and help her close up shop. I never in a million years thought I’d see the day…”

 

“Do you know who’s buying it?” Emma asked, though she had a pretty good idea of who it might be.

 

“You’re not going to believe it,” said Ruby, taking a sip of her coffee. “The one and only Cora Mills! But don’t tell Granny I told you! She wants me to stay out of it. She keeps saying, _that creature is more powerful than you can imagine_ , whatever that’s supposed to mean. Maybe you should warn your friend Killian that his boss is a real hard ass.”

 

“Actually,” replied Emma, pulling the tab back on her hot cocoa. “I think he may already know, and he’s not my friend.”

 

“Boyfriend?” Ruby’s voice jumped up an octave, as she looked teasingly at Emma.

 

“Definitely not!” replied Emma, trying to control the emotion in her voice.

 

“Really? Cause last time I checked you got heart eyes every time his name was mentioned.”

 

“Well not anymore,” snapped Emma, causing Ruby’s face to fall like an abused puppy.

 

“What happened?” she asked softly.

 

“Can’t say.” Emma wasn’t ready to confess how misguided she’d been in everything having to do with Killian Jones. Not to mention, she wasn’t sure Regina would like her spreading around her personal history.

 

“Ok…” Said Ruby sensing Emma’s discomfort. She looked around awkwardly for some distraction. “Hey, wanna help me change Mary Margaret’s desktop to a picture of David’s head photoshopped to Fabio’s body?”

 

Emma sighed and made an exasperated face at her friend’s immaturity. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

After that, things seemed to calm down for a while. For the first time in what felt like years, Emma went several full weeks without any major upsets to her life. The Painted Heart had a steady stream of clientele, August was making progress with his painting, Ruby added a second red streak in her hair. It was business as usual once again. 

That is, until Belle came in the shop one Thursday morning and destroyed Emma's peace as if it were a delicate rose. 

"Can I ask you guys a totally huge, enormous, gargantuan favor?" she plead. 

"Yes, affirmative, we consent," Emma mocked. 

Ignoring the quip, Belle continued, "Mr. Gold left on a business trip to London yesterday. He was going on and on about some rare teacups or something. And I am in charge of everything here in New York for a whole two weeks! Anyway, I have my hands full at the shop, and I really need someone to deliver this envelope to Cora Mills as soon as possible. I would do it myself, but she's all the way in Tribeca, and I can't afford to lose an hour." 

"Cora Mills?!" Emma and Ruby exclaimed in simultaneous disbelief. 

"Why would Gold be sending an envelope to Cora Mills?" asked Ruby, popping her gum. 

"Why can't you just put the envelope in the mail?" inquired Emma, leaning across a child-sized table. She had been testing the ceramic paints to see which ones were dried out. 

"Mr. Gold specifically said that the envelope must be handed directly to Mrs. Mills herself. He said it was of the utmost importance, and he wouldn't risk it being lost in the mail or dropped carelessly by a messenger. He has a blatant distrust of mailmen, he won't tell me why," Belle explained before drifting off thoughtfully. 

"I would do it," said Ruby, "but Granny gets every spare moment I have these days." It was a weak excuse. Emma regretted telling Mary Margaret to take the morning off to meet David for coffee. Belle's big blue eyes turned her way. 

Emma did not want to meet Cora Mills or anyone with that last name, and she most certainly did not want to go anywhere near Killian Jones. But then Belle looked so helpless..."Fine," she groaned. Maybe she deserved this anyway, for being such a fool. 

"Yay! Thank you, Emma!" Belle clapped, wrapping Emma in a side-hug. Emma snatched up the envelope. It was one of those rectangular orange ones with the metal clasp at the top. 

"Geez, is there a book in here?" Emma asked, weighing the envelope in her right hand. 

"I don't know." Replied Belle, unconcerned. "Mr. Gold said it's for Mrs. Mills' eyes alone." 

"oooh top secret," Ruby made to grab at the envelope. 

"No!" screeched Belle, looking scandalized. "Mr. Gold is trusting me!" 

"Relax, my beauty," laughed Ruby. "I was just kidding." 

"All right simmer down, kids," said Emma, stowing the envelope in her backpack. "I guess I'm off to Tribeca." 

 

 

 


	11. The Queen of Broken Hearts

One very long ride on the 1 train later, Emma was walking across the cobbled streets in Tribeca. There were significantly less people around, and Emma began to doubt she was even in the same city. She double-checked that she had the right address. All seemed in order. Looking around at the huge industrial-looking apartment buildings, one thing was clear to Emma: Cora Mills wasn't just rich; she was New York City rich. 

After getting past a suspicious doorman and an overly flirtatious elevator operator, Emma reached the top floor of Cora Mills’ luxurious apartment building. She had never experienced anything like it. There was no door with a bell to ring, Emma was delivered directly from the elevator into a large room with darkly finished hardwood floors above which stood a mahogany coffee table and some very uncomfortable-looking couches (or should she say sofas?) lined with deep red velvet. Emma felt as if she had just entered some kind of liar. All it needed was a villain.

 

“Long time no see, Love” came a familiar voice that sent a shiver of revulsion down Emma’s spine. Killian Jones was sitting at a desk in the corner of the room, but he got up as soon as he saw Emma come out of the elevator. “When you didn’t reply to any of my texts, I was worried you may have fallen into a ditch somewhere. Glad to see I was wrong. You come to see me?”

 

“Oh,” she said, refusing to even look him in the eye. “Hello, Mr. Jones.”

 

“Mr. Jones?” The smirk disappeared from Killian’s face, as he halted his advance toward her. “What’s that about?”

 

“Is your superior here?” Emma asked, ignoring the question. “I have something for her.”

 

Killian’s eyes grew dark for a second, and he looked as if he was about to argue but thought better of it. In an exaggerated voice he said, “Wait right here, _Miss Swan_. If you would be so kind.”

 

Relieved he was gone, Emma sat on the very edge of one of the velvet couches afraid that if she put her whole weight on it, it would break. It would have been possible to fit Emma’s apartment six times into the room she was now sitting in. Yet, from the looks of it, this room was hardly ever used. Antique vases rested on carved wooden pedestals, original paintings, which looked to be from the 1800’s, lined the lavishly papered walls. And everywhere there were hearts. Hearts carved into trim, hearts on the heavy red curtains…there were even hearts formed from the crystal in the chandelier above Emma’s head. Emma found it distinctly creepy. The room seemed much more like the honeymoon suite of an expensive hotel than someone’s apartment. There was nothing personal about the space, nothing that said “home.” Then Emma noticed something sticking out from below the coffee table in front of her.

 

Reaching for it, she realized it was a picture frame laying face-down as if someone had carelessly kicked it aside. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a picture of Regina and a little brown-haired boy. They were laughing. Emma had never seen Regina look so happy as she wrapped her arms around the boy. _It must be her son_ , Emma reasoned. He was looking up at Regina with so much reverence and love, Emma knew he must worship her. A smile crept up Emma’s face at the happy scene until guilt gripped her throat, and she frowned. Maybe she really had been completely wrong about Regina.

 

Regina was quickly becoming something of an enigma to Emma. She knew she was wrong about the whole thing with Killian. She felt so ashamed for that, especially because she let Killian play her for such a fool. But she also didn’t want to go running to Regina for forgiveness. After all, there was still the way Regina treated her ever since they first met. There was the initial condescension at the garden party, the whole scene during the Painted Heart tour, and basically any other time Emma found herself in Regina’s presence. The woman’s tongue dripped with disdain, and her eyes burned with dislike…or had they? Emma began replaying every conversation she’d ever had with Regina in her head. Had she been misinterpreting the tension between them? All this time, was Regina really suppressing an attraction to Emma instead of voicing her repulsion? Had Emma actually maybe been aware of it but was unwilling to admit it?

 

Emma shuddered at the thought. _No way!_ She told herself. _But that kiss._ Looking back at the photograph, Regina looked so happy. She was a mother in love with her son. Surely anyone capable of such love could never be that bad…

 

“If you will follow me, _Miss Swan_ ,” Killian had returned and was clearly keeping up the mocked politeness.

 

Emma thought about putting the picture back where she found it, but it felt wrong. Instead, she propped it up on top of the coffee table before following Killian down a dark hallway.  He knocked three times on the large wooden door at the end of it.

 

“Send her in,” came the voice of an older woman. Killian opened the door, and Emma had to squeeze her eyes shut for a few seconds as blinding white light flooded the gloomy hallway. There, seated at a large white desk in a mostly white room, in front of a huge sunny window, was Cora Mills.

 

Emma was momentarily paralyzed like a rabbit before a cobra. Cora wore a red blazer over a starched white blouse. She had the collar of her shirt popped, giving her an almost regal appearance, but the dangerous look in her dark eyes told Emma this queen wasn’t the good kind.

 

“You have something for me?” Cora asked, raising an auburn eyebrow.

 

“Urm…yeah.” Emma dug clumsily through her backpack before producing the envelope. “This is from Mr. Gold. He said it was…urgent.”

 

“Ahh yes!” Cora’s face grew softer, but there was something sinister in the softness. “You must be Belle.”

 

“Um, no.” Emma shuffled her feet. She couldn’t help feeling Cora already knew that. “Belle couldn’t get away from the shop. I’m Emma Swan.”

 

Cora’s face changed again, and Emma began to wonder if she were some kind of shapeshifter. There was a greedy excitement in Cora’s gaze. Emma didn’t trust her one bit. She was…up to something.

 

“Miss Swan! Of course! Sit down. Would you like some tea?” Cora gestured to the chair across from her desk.

 

“No thank you,” replied Emma, still holding the envelope and sitting awkwardly in the aforementioned chair. She had no intention of being poisoned. How did Cora Mills even know who she was?

 

“Killian has told me all about you,” Cora explained, as if reading Emma’s mind. Emma snapped her head around to look at Killian, but he had already left the room, shutting the door behind him. _Snake._ There was no escaping now.

Emma should have known Killian couldn’t be trusted. She should have known he’d run back and tell everything she’d confided in him to his “mistress.” After all, that’s what he’s good at. Emma’s heart sunk as she remembered Regina’s letter, but she pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come.

 

“Really? Why would he do that?” Emma dared to ask.

 

“Well because I told him to of course,” Cora confessed. There was no hesitation in her reply. She stated it matter-of-factly and without any hint of shame.

 

Emma gaped at her. That was not the response she was expecting, but then it all started to click. She remembered the day she met Killian in the women’s dress department. He’d said, _I’m just on an assignment from my boss. She sends me to do all her…dirty work_. It all made sense.

 

“You sent him to spy on me?”

 

“I wanted to know more about you, and Gold was getting nowhere.”

 

“What?!”

 

“You obviously prefer a younger, more rugged sort of man.”

 

“EXCUSE ME?” Emma almost dropped the envelope as she flew out of her seat. Catching it between her fingertips, she flung it onto Cora’s desk where it landed with a dull thud. “Here’s your super-secret envelope. That’s all I came here for, so I’ll just be going now.”

 

“Wait just a second, Miss Swan.” There was a warning in Cora’s voice. Emma froze. “I don’t see why we can’t be on good terms. Come, sit down. Let’s have a chat.”

 

Emma eyed Cora with suspicion, but she couldn’t help feeling a little curious too. She sat back down.

 

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you and the other girls in your little shop,” Cora began as she leaned back in her chair. “For business purposes or course.  I needed to know more about you. Anyway, when Mr. Gold informed me that your business was struggling, I tried to step in to offer my help by buying your business. But obviously, we both know how that turned out.”

 

“Painted Heart is not for sale,” Emma reaffirmed.

 

“Yes, Miss Blanchard made that quite clear. However, if she thinks this little scheme she’s set up with David and Kathryn Nolan is going to be enough to save her shop, then she is a bigger fool than even I thought her.”

 

“Is this how you expect to get on good terms with me? My insulting my closest friend?”

 

“Of course not, I mean no offense. I am stating a fact. Miss Blanchard’s plan will fail because she couldn’t keep her emotions out of it.”

 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

 

“It’s all my business, Miss Swan. How do you think the Nolans got their start? I am their original patron. Don’t you see? Kathryn Nolan is almost like a daughter to me. She and Regina grew up together, side-by-side.”

 

Emma couldn’t help but look incredulous. Kathryn Nolan was almost like a daughter to her? Was that supposed to convince Emma of something? She obviously never cared much for daughters before.

 

“You look skeptical,” Cora observed through narrowed eyes.

 

“I don’t think your interest in the Painted Heart stems from any maternal feeling you may have of Kathryn.” Emma knew it was unwise to egg on someone like Cora Mills, especially if what she was beginning to suspect was true. But Cora was looking at Emma with such a smug expression, Emma just couldn’t help herself. This woman represented everything she hated most in the world.

 

“Oh you don’t do you?” Cora’s eyebrow quirked up in curiosity.

 

“No. I think your interests are of a more personal nature. It can’t be a coincidence that only a few months after you tried to buy Painted Heart, you go and scoop up Granny’s diner just down the block. What are you up to and why are you so dead-set on our neighborhood?”

 

“I knew you were the smart one, Miss Swan. That’s why I picked you.”

 

“Picked me for what?”

 

“To break up David and Mary Margaret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little on the short side, but I wanted to keep updating so you know I haven't abandoned the story! I am determined to finish, even if it has been taking me a long time! Thank you all so much for the support!


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